through the circle of standing water
by katriel1987
Summary: Tales of those who braved the final frontier.  [anthology]
1. truth

**Through the Circle of Standing Water**

Here's the deal: it occurred to me a few days ago that my stories are rather unorganized, so I decided to consolidate my shorter ficlets (around 1,000 words or less) into one place. The ones I'm posting today have all been published before—some of them a _long_ time ago. Overall rating is T but many are actually rated lower than that.

* * *

**Title:** Truth 

**Summary:** Jack has always been the type who wants to hear only the truth.

**Spoilers:** None

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Blood, torture

**Category:** Angst, h/c, Jack & Sam friendship

**Originally Published:** 3.5.04

**Word Count:** 809

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

* * *

He is no longer quiet. 

He's strong—he has always been strong—but the stoic silence he displayed at first has long since fled. He doesn't scream, really—he yells, sometimes unintelligible things, sometimes curse words too harsh for young ears. At first he occupied his mind by coming up with wonderfully creative and insulting names for his torturers. Such sarcastic insolence has been gone for hours now.

Major Samantha Carter is curled up in her cell, arms wrapped around her knees, trying in vain to block out the sounds. She has cried until there are no tears left; now she sits, silent, empty, wishing only that she could do something to make it all stop.

If she looks up, Sam can clearly see her CO and close friend. She doesn't look up because she doesn't want to see him, lying in a pool of blood, his face twisted in agony.

He hasn't told them anything, other than making a few suggestions about the moral character of each tormentor's mother and giving advice on where exactly they should go to spend the rest of eternity.

Colonel Jack O'Neill yells again, and this time his cry of agony forms itself into a word not yet heard from his lips. "Carter! _Carter..."_

Perhaps, in his increasingly confused state, Jack actually thinks Sam can save him. Perhaps he simply needs someone, anyone, to comfort him.

Sam Carter's heart splinters into pieces, and she starts rocking, slowly at first, then more rapidly. Don't look up, she tells herself. Don't crumble and tell them what they want to know just so they stop hurting him.

The fate of several worlds, balanced against the life of one man—seems like an obvious choice, doesn't it? Sam has always thought so, but now—now black and white are fading into shades of gray in front of her eyes.

For a moment, the torture stops, and Jack's hoarse breathing fills the room. He will die if tortured much longer, but that doesn't matter to his captors. They can always bring him back, again and again. They can continue this until he is a vegetable, until he no longer has a voice with which to provide the answers they demand.

There is a snap, and Jack's voice rises again. "Oh God—_Carter!"_

Her rocking ceases, and for a moment she doesn't breathe. If only she could stop breathing, stop hearing, stop knowing what is happening right in front of her.

Then a thought strikes—if she can hear his every word so clearly, perhaps he can also hear her. There is so little she can do for him right now—if she can comfort him in some small way, it would be an improvement, however slight.

"Sir?" Her voice is hoarse and scratchy; she clears her throat and tries again. "Sir, it's Carter. Can you hear me?"

"Carter?" His voice is a weak rasp; she can imagine his dark brown eyes searching for her and seeing only the twisted, soulless faces of his captors.

"I'm here, Sir."

"Silence!" A large Jaffa shouts angrily. Carter ignores him, focusing her attention on her commanding officer.

"Carter, you...all right?" Jack yelps as his words are punished swiftly. It's getting hard to think, to focus; he clings desperately to Carter's voice, to the knowledge that she is nearby.

"Yes, sir, I'm fine." Carter isn't going to tell him that everything will be okay, because this time, it isn't true. She knows Jack. He wants honesty. He wants the truth—that's the way he's always been.

And this time, the truth is that they aren't getting out.

Or is it?

One of Jack's tormentors collapses to the floor, enveloped in blue light. The others start to turn, but before they have a chance to react, they go down as well. For a moment there is silence; then cautious footsteps approach.

The two familiar figures—the brown-haired, bespectacled archaeologist and the huge, expressionless Jaffa—have never been more welcome. Daniel Jackson crosses to Sam's cell and lets her out as Teal'c kneels beside Jack O'Neill.

Once freed, Sam rushes to Jack's side. He is in terrible shape; to keep herself calm, she focuses on his brown eyes. They move slowly, coming to rest on her face. He almost manages a patented Jack O'Neill grin. "Hey, Carter," he wheezes. "The cavalry's here."

"So I see, Sir." Sam returns the smile, although she really feels like crying again. It never fails to amaze her now a man in his fifties can manage to look so boyish.

"MajorCarter, we must make great haste in escaping from this place," Teal'c puts in. Sam knows he's right, but she holds her CO's gaze for just a moment longer, and in a soft voice, she tells him the truth.

She tells him it's going to be all right.

**fin**


	2. SG1

**Title:** SG-1

**Summary:** After the events of '1969', far into the future, Cassandra is thinking.

**Spoilers:** 1969; Singularity

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** None

**Category:** Angst, episode tag

**Originally Published:** 3.23.04

**Word Count:** 286

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

* * *

Oh, how I wish they could have stayed longer. I had almost forgotten that they were ever that young. Beautiful Sam, Daniel with the short ponytail, the Colonel before his hair went totally gray...Teal'c, looking so completely ridiculous in those vintage '60's clothes.

I smiled bravely for them, but after they were gone I could no longer keep up the façade. God, how I miss them. They've been gone for so long now, and seeing them like that, so vibrant and alive, was almost more than I could take.

I wish I could have just sat down and talked with them, like we used to do a lifetime ago when I was a little girl. I wish I could have shown them things, advances we've made, foes we've conquered. So many things have changed since they fought their final battle.

Seeing them now, so long after they left, was harder than I could have imagined. Activating the Stargate and watching, for the last time, as they walked through was the last thing I wanted to do. I wanted to hold them and never let go, but I couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to them.

Now, I linger in what long ago was the embarkation room, staring at the now-silent Stargate, almost wishing they will walk back through, but knowing they won't.

I stand in the cold silence, and think of many things...of how far we've come since 1999, of my own children and grandchildren, of the people I lost so long ago on my home planet...but most of all, I think of the four people I just saw for the last time, of the people who gave me a chance to live.

I think of SG-1.

**fin**


	3. may fourth

**Title:** May Fourth

**Summary:** Reflections on those who were lost.

**Spoilers:** None really

**Pairings:** Jack/Sam

**Warnings:** Character death

**Category:** Angst, future fic

**Originally Published:** 3.24.04

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Word Count:** 1,080

**Author's Note:** I chose May fourth because it is the date on which my friend died tragically in 1999. His name, coincidentally, was Jack, and he was sixteen years old. So, Jack, wherever you are now...you aren't forgotten.

* * *

It's May fourth today.

It's May fourth, and the sky is gray and spitting rain. Seems fitting, I suppose, considering. Could it really have been two years? We've all moved on with our lives; we get up, drive to work, come home and have supper and watch TV and even laugh sometimes. Is it unfair to them that we've gone ahead and left behind all they were, all they could have been?

I haven't forgotten them; I could never forget them, but sometimes simply living feels like a betrayal. I carry on with life, with my daily routine, doing small insignificant things they'll never get to do again.

Sometimes the reality hits me suddenly, evoking a sharp, tearing pain in my chest. I'll be sitting at my desk on a completely ordinary morning, sipping coffee, when it strikes me that he'll never drink coffee again, that I'll never see her big blue eyes light up as she discusses her newest technological discovery. We'll never again meet over coffee on some boring morning to discuss anything and everything.

They're gone.

Permanently.

Forever.

They won't come strolling down the hall together, one cracking a corny joke and the other trying to hide her smile. They won't tumble onto the gate ramp from some distant planet, yelling "Close the iris!"

They won't annoy me or argue with me or complain about trees or giggle despite an order not to giggle or invite me to go fishing. It's funny the things you regret most after someone's gone. I should have gone fishing with Jack. It probably would have been thoroughly boring, but what I wouldn't give now for the chance to be bored with Jack by my side, sipping a beer and cracking a smart-ass comment every now and then.

They won't ever again do even the simplest of things, like breathing or blinking or smiling. They're gone. After two years, you'd think I would have finally realized that. You'd think I wouldn't always be expecting one of them to walk through the door.

Like now. I tidy up my desk in preparation to leave work, but hesitate for a moment in the doorway, wondering if Sam has left yet, if she'd mind if I run my latest translation by her.

Daniel, you idiot, Sam isn't here. Sam has been dead for two years. Two years since those stunning long-lashed blue eyes finally flickered closed. She'd hung on for a long time, but when Jack went down she finally gave up.

It had been a battle with the Jaffa, just another of our hundreds of battles with the Jaffa, and Sam had gotten hurt fairly early on. We all knew it was bad, really bad.

Jack kept her alive, talked to her nonstop, ordered her not to lose consciousness. He channeled every iota of energy and resolve within him into getting Sam through that gate to safety, to medical help. I never saw a man more set on a single goal. We almost made it, too, but none of us saw the Jaffa hiding in the brush near the gate.

Two staff weapons fired as one, both blasts striking Jack in the chest, and before he even fell I knew he wasn't going to make it. Heaven only knows what gave him the strength to look straight into my eyes and say, "Get Sam to..."

She'd been awake, had seen the whole thing. I think she'd been hanging on mostly for him, willing herself to live, and when she watched him die, her will vanished. She looked at me, as he had done, and blinked twice, and closed her eyes.

There were no last words, no background music, not even a shrilling monitor. Just a final flutter of long lashes, then silence. Teal'c had taken out the Jaffa, and we made it through the gate. Neither of us could speak as we walked numbly out onto the ramp. We couldn't say to close the iris or call in a medical team that neither Jack nor Sam would ever need.

Teal'c had flung Jack over his shoulder; he lowered him gently to the floor at the end of the ramp. I placed Sam next to Jack. Their faces were still and pale, their skin already cooling. They were dead. They were dead.

General Hammond was reserved as always but I saw the raw grief in his eyes. Teal'c was the same way. I was in shock for a while, but after it wore off I cried more than any grown man wants to admit.

Jack was a man who sometimes annoyed the hell out of me, but a man who would have died to save my life. Sam was a sister and a friend, one of the most intelligent and caring people I have ever known.

It's been two years, and they're still gone, and we're still here. They're silent and cold, and we live and laugh, but I'm not laughing today. I never laugh on May fourth.

I don't go straight home from work any more; that's one of the many things that have changed in my life during the last two years. I have to stop by day care and pick up my daughter.

Sam's daughter.

Her name is Hope, and she just turned three years old. Sam was very close-mouthed about the identity of Hope's father, but I think we all knew, even General Hammond.

Sam's daughter...and Jack's.

She's my daughter now, the bright star who keeps me going. I've suffered a lot of loss in my life, Sam and Jack just the latest, and Hope is the one person I'm absolutely determined to hang onto.

She's brilliant already, like her mother, and sometimes impulsive, like her dad. She has brown eyes and blond hair and I'm teaching her to say "for cryin' out loud" and "yeahsureyoubetcha" and to recite the atomic weight of boron and the names of obscure elements.

Sam and Jack are gone, but maybe, some small part of them lives on in Hope. I'm going to make sure she knows about her parents, all about them, about the people they were and the lives they saved, and classified information be damned. Hope deserves to know.

Jack and Sam lay silent and cold beneath gray headstones, but I'm fighting to keep something of them alive in Hope.

She's all I have left of them, the friends I lost a billion miles away on a day much colder than this.

**fin**


	4. sisters

**Title:** Sisters

**Summary:** Once upon a time, there were two sisters.

**Spoilers:** None (takes place many years pre-series)

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Mild violence

**Category:** Angst, pre-series, OCs

**Originally Published:** 5.5.04

**Word Count:** 2,302

**Disclaimer:** The Goa'uld aren't mine; I'm not getting paid; I'm just playing with them. I do own Naya and Sairese and the Goa'ulds Anuket and Jah.

**Author's Note:** Dedicated to my sister Jen, upon whom the character of Naya is based.

* * *

Once upon a time, there were two sisters.

The elder was named Naya; the younger, Sairese. Their mother died when Sairese was but an infant and Naya, being seven seasons older than Sairese, became as a mother to the younger—a mother and so much more.

When Sairese took her first steps, it was Naya's open arms into which she walked. When she skinned her knee, Naya wiped away her tears and made the hurt better with infinite care and patience.

Together the sisters walked to the crest of the hill every evening to watch the suns set and speak of anything and everything—of their fears, their hopes and dreams, their goals. Naya wished to marry and have a large family; Sairese wanted to be a doctor.

At night they snuggled together for warmth and giggled far too late into the purple starfilled night. Their lives were indelibly intertwined, connected in a bond far beyond that of mere sisterhood.

In blooming season they gathered armfuls of flowers to decorate their simple home and when the snows came they dressed warmly and went out to painstakingly pack and sculpt the snow into beautiful shapes and figures. Naya's sculptures were better—she had the hands of an artist—but she always insisted Sairese's creations were the most beautiful she had ever seen.

Naya was very quiet and never defended herself against teasing from the more bold of the village boys, but when they taunted Sairese until she cried, the older sister flew at them, her fury so frightening that neither sister was ever mistreated again.

Naya wished only the best for her sister and dedicated herself to making Sairese's dreams reality, but there was one thing she could not give the younger girl: beauty.

You see, Naya was very beautiful, and while Sairese was not unpleasant to look upon, her features were plain and common. She could not have known that this would someday prove to be the greatest blessing she could imagine.

I am Sairese, and whoever hears me, heed these words: do not rejoice in beauty, nor flaunt it in your villages. Hide it, spirit it away somewhere safe and distant, for someday they may come to your world also.

I speak of the soul stealers, as they are called by my people, or the Goa'uld, as they call themselves. They prey upon the innocent and unprepared, but most of all, they prey upon the beautiful.

Naya and I were lying in a field of fragrant lavender soshe flowers, looking toward the sky and speaking in soft wistful voices, telling of memories from our past and hopes for our future, when it began.

We were too far from the ancient ring to know that it had spit forth destroyers. Our first knowledge of danger was when we heard explosions and screams from the village.

I had just turned eleven seasons and my fear prevented me from moving. Naya certainly saved my life, for she pulled me to my feet and pushed me toward the woods.

The field was wide and we almost reached the safety of the trees before we were seen. The destroyers fired their powerful weapons at us but we were not injured.

Our lives had always been peaceful and we had never needed to hide before; we had no knowledge of how to avoid our pursuers. It could not have been more than two hours before we were captured and taken back to the smoking ruins of our village.

Those of our people who had survived the attack were assembled, silent and terrified, in the devastated town square. I clung to Naya as I had done when I was very small and frightened of lightning, and my sister faced our captors defiantly, almost daring them to attempt to hurt me.

Then the choosing began.

Some of my people were chosen; more of them were not. As the choosing progressed I began to see a terrible pattern, and from her trembling I knew Naya saw it too: the beautiful were taken, the plain rejected.

Naya was beautiful.

We were pried apart, my terrified screams falling on unheeding ears, my captors clearly so soulless they did not care about our pain. When they dragged Naya away I was still reaching for her, and she for me, our arms outstretched as if they could bridge the gap between us.

When next I saw Naya, she was no longer my sister.

Her outward appearance was the same—burnished copper skin, dark hair shining and rippled with waves—but her bearing was not that of the gentle sister I had always trusted so implicitly. When she spoke, her voice was strange to me, and behind her eyes lay not Naya, but an evil I could hardly comprehend.

They had taken Naya's soul from her.

She was replaced, I later learned, by the soul of a Goa'uld named Anuket. At first I searched in vain for any signs of the sister I had known, but saw none; I feared she was lost to me, her soul gone forever, until the time came when the destroyers were ordered to kill the plain villagers, the ones who had not been chosen.

For a moment, a second so brief I was almost afraid it had not really happened at all, I saw my sister's soul surface in those dark eyes. Then Anuket returned, but her will was no longer so strong; she wavered briefly before giving the order to spare only one of the villagers.

Me.

The destroyers seemed confused but did not dare question her orders. I was roughly shoved to the side and I hid my eyes and cried while the rest of the villagers were brutally killed. My father was not among them; he must have fallen in the initial attack.

Surrounded by the destroyers, Anuket and the other chosen—each of whom had been replaced by soul of a Goa'uld—made their way to the ancient ring, where they used their magic to turn the inside to water. They stepped through and were gone, but not before I had seen the symbols that they lit.

I was not alone, as I would soon discover; more than twenty other villagers, eight of them children, had survived the attack and soon came in from the woods, sharing the grief and horror I felt. At times I know we all wished to die, but slowly we lived beyond our pain, buried our dead, and began to rebuild our village.

I did not forget the symbols I had seen. The others told me that retrieving my sister was an impossible task, that her soul had been stolen and was gone forever, but I knew they were mistaken. I had seen my sister's soul in that instant before Anuket gave the order to spare my life. I knew Naya still existed, and somehow, I had to save her.

For five seasons after my sister was taken I went repeatedly to the ancient circle, staring at it, caught between terror and a longing to try to make it work and follow my sister through the standing water.

And in the darkest hour of night in the fifth season after Naya's departure, when I was sixteen seasons old, I took a torch to the circle and pressed in the symbols as I had seen Anuket's companions do.

It had long been forbidden for my people to touch the ancient circle. It was said by the wise old ones that we would immediately be struck down if we attempted to use it, that only the ones with magic could safely travel the pathways of the stars.

I had no magic, but I knew that I must try.

The center of the ring turned to water just as it had done so long ago, and more frightened than I had ever been before in my life but knowing what I was doing was right, I stepped through it.

There was only a moment of disorientation, and then I stumbled from the standing water and found myself on firm ground in a dark forest much like the one I had left. For a despairing moment I thought my quest had gotten me nowhere, but then I saw the lights of a city far ahead through the trees.

By the time I reached the city, the sky was beginning to brighten and the people had awakened, traveling the streets. I saw destroyers, those dressed in metal armor with strange marks upon their foreheads, and more like the chosen after their souls had been removed. These were dressed in elaborate robes, and I did not need to hear their distorted voices to know what they were; I saw the evil in their eyes.

I also saw lowly slaves, humans like me, who catered to every whim of these dark beings, and that sight gave me hope.

I was dressed in rags much like those of the slaves I saw, and pretending to be a slave myself should be a simple matter. I had only to wait until I heard mention of the name Anuket, and then I would be able to find my sister, to save her from imprisonment inside her own body.

I knew Naya as no one else knew her, and this I knew above all else: she was gentle and quiet, but she was also strong, strong with a strength that would not allow her to give up. She had survived. I knew she had.

I gave my name as Rese, and for nearly three seasons I meekly served as slave to a dark being, a Goa'uld, named Jah. I spoke little but listened much, learning of the Goa'uld, of their culture, of their ships and weapons. I heard many names spoken, but Anuket was never among them.

Not until three seasons after I arrived.

When finally I heard the name of the soul who had taken my sister, it was not merely in a passing mention; to my great joy I learned that Anuket's ship was coming to visit Esna, the city where I had lived these last three seasons.

My chance had come.

It was not a simple thing to smuggle myself aboard Anuket's wondrous ship; it was heavily guarded but during my seasons as a slave I had learned to make myself almost invisible. I was insignificant, a slave among a great many slaves.

Three days Anuket's ship stayed in Esna, and three days I spent posing as one of her slaves and carefully hiding myself from her view. If she saw me and recognized me, I would be killed, and I could not risk that. If I were to free my sister's soul, I must remain alive.

My final chance came not so long after Anuket's ship had left Esna. The ship had not yet begun to fly at its full speed when it was rocked by an explosion. Anuket had been very much blindsided by one of her greatest foes, who possessed a more powerful and better defended ship than she.

In the confusion, a ragged slave creeping quietly toward Anuket's quarters was paid no mind.

She was there, still beautiful with the face of my sister but the soul of a being who was so very evil. I could see the expression on her face, worry mixed with a hint of true fear. She knew, as I did, that the ship was in trouble, but right now, none of that mattered.

Here she was after so long, standing right in front of me, Naya's face with another's soul keeping her trapped, and I did not know how to help her.

She turned and looked full into my face, and for a moment she stared at me impatiently, seeing just another slave. Then her eyes sharpened and she knew who I was. Our eyes locked for a split second, but I saw no traces of my sister. Surely she had not perished. She had to still be there, somewhere.

"Jaffa!" Anuket shouted, bringing her chief destroyer running, his weapon primed and ready. He pointed it at my back as I stood looking at the face of my sister, who was now certainly lost to me.

I had labored so long, for nothing.

There was no last-minute reprieve as there had been so long ago in a smoking little village surrounded by fields of lavender flowers. Anuket nodded her head and the bolt from the destroyer's weapon struck me in the back.

I fell to the floor, feeling more numbness than pain, and knew that I was dying.

It seemed only an instant after the destroyer fired upon me that the ceiling caved in. Anuket raised her arms to shield her head but she was struck by falling debris and crushed to the ground to lie beside me. Her eyes glowed briefly, as I had seen the evil ones' eyes do before, and then the glow died.

And I saw my sister.

Her lips moved soundlessly twice before she was able to speak my name. "Sairese?" She whispered.

"Naya." My whisper in response was a mixture of joy and pain; joy that I had found her after my seemingly endless quest, and pain that it would end like this. The explosions around us had grown louder and the ship was shuddering, breaking apart. It did not matter.

For the second time, we reached for each other.

This time our hands met and intertwined, our fingers curling around each other, connected, as we were always meant to be. Indestructibly.

Forever.

Once upon a time there were two sisters. One was taken by a Goa'uld, and the other spent many seasons searching for her. Once upon a time there were two sisters, and they died together and had no regrets.

**fin**


	5. rain

**Title:** Rain

**Summary:** Memories can be bittersweet.

**Spoilers:** Movie/Children of the Gods

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Mild tissue warning

**Category:** Angst

**Originally Published:** 5.17.04

**Word Count:** 438

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Original Author's Note:** Thanks to my beta Grav, as always. I'd like to take this opportunity to remember my cat, who died unexpectedly today (May 17, 2004) at the age of eight. I loved that cat; we grew up together. He loved unconditionally, listened without condemning, and was the best friend I ever had. Goodbye, Green Eyes; rest in peace.

* * *

It's raining tonight. 

I got home from the SGC late after finally, mercifully, completing a mountain of paperwork. The roads were slick on the way home so I drove slowly, watching the windshield wipers go back and forth, back and forth in an endless cycle, with raindrops hitting the glass more quickly than the wipers could carry away the water.

The house was dark and cold when I pulled up in the driveway; this is one of the things I hate most about living alone, this coming home to an empty house. I guess it just makes it harder, the fact that I can remember brightly lit windows and supper waiting on the table and a small pair of arms thrown around my neck in a welcoming hug.

Charlie loved rain.

Even as a toddler, he didn't seem scared of storms. I remember seeing him sit with his chubby face pressed against the window, transfixed by the lightning show going on outside.

Halfway to the house, other memories came, and I stopped, not feeling the cold raindrops soaking through my clothes, running down the back of my neck.

_(Charlie coming in from outside, muddy and dripping wet from head to toe, smiling his adorable but slightly guilty smile, knowing his mom would be mad but having had too much fun to care. Sara let him by with it that time, too—I remember her fond but slightly exasperated laugh, her hand on his muddy shoulder as she led him off toward the shower.)_

_(Charlie tugging on my hand—"Dad, come on, let's go out!"_

"_Charlie, it's raining."_

"_I know!" Brown eyes sparkling, little-boy smile. "That's the best time!")_

I went with him, finally, and we both got soaked to the skin and Charlie came down with a cold and Sara lectured me for letting him go out in the rain, but I'm glad now that I did, remembering the way he looked up toward the sky, closed his eyes, and stood enraptured as the raindrops fell on his face.

A raindrop splashed into my eye, bringing me back to the present, making me realize I had unconsciously turned my face up just like Charlie had so long ago. Water drops slid down my cheeks like the tears I don't cry any more, and my breath fogged around my face when I whispered, "Damn it, Charlie, I miss you."

And just for an instant, just before I went inside, a tiny warm breeze caressed my face, almost like Charlie's hand reaching out to touch me, almost like Charlie's breath on my cheek saying _It's okay, Dad; I'm still here._

**fin**


	6. carrie

**Title:** Carrie

**Summary:** Her name was Carrie, and she was mother to seven, angel to a thousand.

**Spoilers:** None

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** None really

**Category:** General

**Originally Published:** 5.21.04

**Word Count:** 342

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Original Author's Note:** Thanks to my beta Grav, as usual. This ficlet was inspired somewhat by the Plumb song "Unnoticed". It's meant as a tribute to those who quietly make a difference, in the SGC and everywhere else.

* * *

Her name was Carrie.

She was probably in her early forties, still attractive in a way, with brown hair threaded with silver and blue eyes that crinkled at the corners. She smiled often and laughed easily and one day we ended up sitting next to each other in the commissary.

The rest of the team was offworld with SG-15 but I got left behind because of a leg injury and Carrie must have seen me sitting alone. She carried her plate over and sat down next to me with a grin and a quiet hello.

We talked for a while, easy, casual conversation. She told me about her seven kids, the youngest of whom was two. We laughed over her four-year-old's loud comments in church last Sunday. She asked if I'd seen the latest Mel Gibson movie.

And then she finished her waffles and was gone, with a smile and the lingering scent of cinnamon. It wasn't until after she was gone that I finally managed to place that voice, to connect it with the gentle hands on my face the last time an alien poked me full of holes and I ended up in the infirmary. Carrie was my favorite nurse, and I hadn't even known her name or her face.

Her name was Carrie and she died today when a member of SG-12 who had been exposed to a hallucinogen offworld shot up the infirmary. I was there for my checkup; I took out the crazed Captain Allison, but not in time.

I saw Carrie's eyes in those last few seconds. She looked more regretful than frightened, and I could almost see her struggling to say the words _tell my family,_ but she died before her lips could form the sounds.

Her name was Carrie and she was mother to seven, angel to a thousand. Her name was Carrie and after her death I'm left with a strange empty feeling, all because of gentle hands, a few minutes of friendly conversation, a four-year-old's antics and the lingering smell of cinnamon.

**fin**


	7. fall back

**Title:** Fall Back

**Summary:** A final goodbye on a battlefield.

**Spoilers:** None

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Character death, violence

**Category:** Angst, tragedy, Jack & Sam friendship

**Originally Published:** 5.23.04

**Word Count:** 298

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

* * *

"Fall back!"

Running. There's a sharp pain in my left leg but I can't stop because stopping would mean death. My teammates are running beside me. Daniel trips and I slow, ready to help him, but he rights himself and continues.

A staff blast sizzles behind me, an impact, and one of us is down.

"Sir!"

He's lying facedown, his back is smoking. "Go!" I shout to Daniel and Teal'c.

Oh God. His chest is gone, blasted away. I roll him over as gently as possible but I know it hurts because he gasps, and then brown eyes are staring up at me.

"Carter," he says clearly. Blood bubbles from his lips. "Carter, go."

He's holding the remote for the C4 in one hand. Soon the Jaffa will be close enough to blow to hell, but they'll also be close enough to shoot me easily. The Colonel knows this. I know this, but I don't move, because no one gets left behind.

"Sam, _go!"_ He insists. It is not a request or a plea, but an order. His voice is weak but he puts every bit of authority he can muster into those two words.

The Jaffa are getting closer and I painfully stand. Our eyes lock for a moment, two friends, two fellow warriors communicating without words.

"It was an honor, sir," I say, then turn and run for the Stargate just before the Jaffa come into range. I go because I know Jack cannot be saved. I go because he wants me to, because he wants the dying satisfaction of taking some of the enemy with him.

And just before I leap through the open wormhole that will take me to safety, the ground shudders and I hear the resounding boom as the C4 is detonated.

**fin**


	8. silence

**Title:** Silence

**Summary:** How could he leave this way?

**Spoilers:** Slight for "Meridian"

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Character death

**Category:** Angst, deathfic, drabble

**Originally Published:** 5.31.04

**Word Count:** 100

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Original Author's Note:** Thanks to my beta Grav, who managed to refrain from strangling me for this. This is my first 100-word drabble, and it might be an accomplishment if not for the fact that I killed off a member of SG-1 in a completely meaningless and unnecessary way. I was depressed and wanted somebody else to feel as bad as I did.

* * *

"You had to go and die, didn't you?"

It was cold. Cold enough that his breath fogged the air. It wasn't really raining, but streamers of mist dampened his clothes.

"You _had_ to go and die on me."

His tone changed, becoming cold. He kicked at a tree, welcoming the pain when his toes connected. He knew he shouldn't be angry, but he was.

How could Daniel leave like _this?_

After all they'd been through, how could he die in an accident in a storage room?

"Dammit, Daniel!" Jack O'Neill shouted at the sky.

No ascension this time. Only silence.

**fin**


	9. it hurts

**Title:** It Hurts

**Summary:** I don't want to die.

**Spoilers:** None

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Character death

**Category:** Angst, deathfic, drabble

**Originally Published:** 6.6.04

**Word Count:** 100

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Original Author's Note:** Thanks to my beta, Grav, for putting up with the fact that you're basically handcuffed because you can't add or remove words. You're the best.

* * *

_It hurts_

I can't run any more and I'm dying and I don't want to die

_Not like this_

With my team still in danger

_Sunlight_

Air smells of flowers and sun-baked grass and blood, mine

_Shouts_

Behind me, they want me to die because I touched something sacred

I didn't know it was sacred

_Innocence_

Even here, there are children

One of them cried and asked her father not to kill me

He didn't listen

_Falling_

Ground is hard and I can't see anything at all, the darkness is cold and I don't want to die and...

Charlie?

**fin**


	10. legacy

**Title:** Legacy

**Summary:** In the distant future, two people remember a fallen hero.

**Spoilers:** None specific

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Character death

**Category:** Angst, future fic, AU

**Originally Published:** 6.16.04

**Word Count:** 710

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

* * *

It's a beautiful day, one of those sunlit, rainwashed mornings following a midnight thunderstorm. The air is still crisp enough that their breath makes fog around their faces, but the sun warms their backs, makes the red highlights in Cassie's hair shine like copper.

Neither of them knew the other was coming. They simply showed up on this bright Colorado dawn, seemingly drawn by some invisible force. Perhaps it was the day that reminded them of him—so vibrant and alive, as he had been. Even when he was silent, his presence had filled a room.

They weren't surprised to see each other; this has happened before. It seems that sometimes a sunset or sunrise or a spectacular summer thunderstorm makes them think of him and simultaneously long for his presence.

This isn't him, this cold gray stone, but seeing his name etched deeply into the marble surface makes him seem closer somehow. Maybe sometimes they need to see his name just to be sure he really was real, and not some fantasy dreamed up long ago in different times.

So here they are on a cold morning in early fall, standing side by side. They are mostly quiet; there is nothing to say that hasn't been said already. There have been years of grief and reminiscence and regrets, and now there is only silence.

Birds chirp in the pine trees around the cemetery and the mountain peaks are stained gold by the rays of the rising sun. In the peace of the morning it's easy to forget the horrific reality they now live in—the reality of a world more than half conquered by the Goa'uld.

They can't help but wonder, sometimes, whether it would have happened this way had he survived. He'd been promoted to a General less than a year before his death, and he rarely went on offworld missions any more. P8R-332 was to be his swan song, his last farewell to the crazy, fast-paced life that came with being a member of SG-1.

It was his last chance to protect his team. His 'kids'.

He did so in his traditional way—with seemingly reckless sarcasm and insolence, drawing the natives' attention away from his team members. He gave them a chance to escape, and he died five feet from the Stargate, while Daniel was dialing home.

It has been a long time now. A very, very long time. Sam doesn't want to think about how long, about how much has changed since he left. He'd hate to see his beloved Earth now—cities lying in smoking ruins, dwindling armies outnumbered and outmaneuvered, but still refusing to give up despite impossible odds.

In all likelihood, it is only a matter of time until there's no one to come to his grave.

"I miss him," Sam says suddenly, her voice lifting the cloak of silence around them. Cassie keeps her eyes straight ahead, and nods once, slowly. She knows it well, the empty ache, the feeling that something irreplaceable has been removed and can never be restored.

"We didn't have him for long, did we?" She whispers, her voice choking. She knew him for eight years. She was hardly more than a child, a child who had already lost two mothers, when he died. She had trusted him, had depended on his calm presence to get her through anything, and in the end he had left. Just like everyone.

Sam shakes her head and smiles sadly. "It never would have been long enough, Cass," she says, using an old nickname that Cassie hasn't heard in too many years. "A hundred years wouldn't have been long enough."

Cassie nods because it is true, and then the curtain of silence descends around them again and they are alone in their own little peaceful bubble. They are alone in a world where they can forget, at least for a few moments, that they are occupants of a doomed planet. They can forget the carnage, the pain, the inevitability of defeat.

And in that well-earned respite from reality, they float back briefly through the corridors of memory and reach out to greet a man whose smile has remained undimmed by the passage of time, his face forever young in their minds.

**fin**


	11. no! and that's final!

**Title:** No! And That's Final!

**Summary:** Daniel whines and uses his puppy dog face. Jack says "no". Multiple times.

**Spoilers:** None

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Silliness

**Category:** Humor, dialogue-only, Jack & Daniel friendship

**Originally Published:** 6.16.04

**Word Count:** 201

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Original Author's Note:** Silly meaninglessness all around. My first dialogue-only fic; popped into my head and demanded to be written down.

* * *

"Jack."

"Daniel."

"Please?"

"No. Absolutely no. And that is final."

"Jaaaaack..."

"I said _no,_ Daniel!"

"But..."

"Oh, for cryin' out loud. Stop that!"

"Stop what?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Daniel, you know damn well that you're doing that _thing_ with your eyes."

"What's wrong with my eyes? You don't like them?"

"Oh, for...Daniel, the answer is no! That is final! Case closed!"

"But Jack, if I could just have—"

"No."

"This could be a significant—"

"No."

"If you let me just this once, I promise I won't—"

"NO!"

"Okay. Fine."

"Daniel. Don't _do_ that."

"Do what?"

"The puppy faced look. Charlie did that when he was five. You're not five."

"No. I guess I'm not."

"Oh for Pete's sake. You see this gray hair, Daniel? Do you? You know why it's there? Because of you, that's why. You'll be the death of me yet!"

"Does this mean—"

"Wipe the grin off your face, Jackson. You get fifteen minutes, _no more._ Fifteen minutes. Do...you...understand?"

"But Jack—"

"Fifteen minutes, Daniel!"

"But that's not enough—"

"I don't care!"

"Jaaack..."

"Aw...dammit!"

**fin**


	12. cool doohickeys

**Title:** Cool Doohickeys

**Summary:** Sam talks technobabble. Jack says "oh for cryin' out loud". Multiple times.

**Spoilers:** None

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** More silliness

**Category:** Humor, dialogue-only, Jack & Sam friendship

**Originally Published:** 6.22.04

**Word Count:** 236

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Author's Note:** Another dialogue between Jack and one of his 'kids'. Contains deliberately meaningless and incomprehensible technobabble.

* * *

"Carter?"

"Sir?"

"How long until it's done?"

"Well, sir, I've modified the output generator to have an increased subspace frequency, but I still need to reverse the particle alternator and—"

"_Carter!"_

"Sorry, sir."

"I ask again...how much longer do you have?"

"Maybe an hour, sir."

"Good."

"Or five."

"_Five,_ Carter?"

"Sorry, sir. You weren't supposed to hear that."

"_Five?"_

"Um...maybe."

"_Maybe?"_

"I don't know, sir. It could take longer than I estimated because the particle alternator creates a larger diffusion field than I originally—"

"For cryin' out loud, Carter! We've got a Goa'uld mothership on the way here and you're telling me we've got _five more hours?"_

"Look on the bright side, sir. If I don't finish it in time, we could always just...leave it."

"Leave it, Carter? Am I sensing the possibility that this thingamajig isn't quite as vital to our continued survival as you implied to General Hammond?"

"Well..."

"Oh, for cryin' out loud!"

"Sir, I had to convince him. This piece of technology is one of the most—most—"

"Cool?"

"That's one way to put it, sir."

"Carter, you're telling me we're on a planet soon to be occupied by the Goa'uld just because of a doohickey that's _cool?"_

"Well..."

"Would you stop saying that!"

"Uh, sir...look."

"Oh shit!"

"What do we do now, sir?"

"We do what brave warriors have been doing for centuries, Carter. We run like hell!"

**fin**


	13. anubis

**Title:** Anubis

**Summary:** What would have happened if SG-1 hadn't found out about Anubis until too late?

**Spoilers:** Vague for late season 5

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Character death

**Category:** Deathfic, AU

**Originally Published:** 6.28.04

**Word Count:** 281

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Original Author's Note:** I started wondering what would have happened if the Asgard and SG-1 hadn't found out about Anubis until too late; this brief fic was the result. AU, obviously.

* * *

It was raining when he left for work that morning, a leaden sky releasing cold drops that spotted his windshield and ran down the back of his neck. Maybe he should have figured out, from that, what kind of day it would be. Maybe he didn't simply because the sky was clear the day Charlie died. After that he'd stopped trying to judge a day by the weather.

He met Carter, Daniel and Teal'c in the commissary for breakfast and halfway through waffles and cereal, they were beamed aboard Thor's ship.

It seemed that a non-protected planet had fallen under attack from a Goa'uld and the Asgard wanted to evacuate its technologically advanced but Stargateless occupants to a safer location. These people, however, refused to deal with the little gray aliens. They wanted real, live humans to talk to.

That, of course, was where SG-1 came in. In the middle of breakfast, naturally.

The Asgard didn't know which Goa'uld was on the way. Thor suggested Ba'al, but he was wrong. They were all wrong.

They were hovering above the planet called Durusia when the Goa'uld mothership approached. At first none of them were concerned—no Goa'uld could penetrate Asgard shields, right? But _this_ mothership...wow. This baby was different.

"Who the hell is that?" O'Neill said. It was the last thing any of them would say.

Call it cruel irony that they died without ever having heard the name 'Anubis'. They never got to call it anything. There was only a brilliant flash, then nothing.

The SGC knew it as the day they lost their best. The Durusians knew it only as a fireball in the sky moments before the world ended.

**fin**


	14. statistic

**Title:** Statistic

**Summary:** It never seems quite real until it hits close to home.

**Spoilers:** None

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Character death

**Category:** Angst/Tragedy

**Originally Published:** 6.28.04

**Word Count:** 265

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Original Author's Note:** I've seen the cost of drunk driving from both sides (my friend was killed by a drunk driver, and my brother has driven drunk). It's nothing to play around with.

* * *

He knew, from the moment he opened the door to see her tearstained face, that it was bad.

"He's dead," she said.

He didn't even have to ask who.

* * *

At 10 PM on a Tuesday night Jack O'Neill got in his truck and headed home from Cheyenne Mountain. At 10:15 PM he stopped to pick up a half-gallon of milk. At 10:22 PM he was hit by a drunk driver.

It was a head-on. They said he never knew what hit him. Later Daniel saw a picture of the crushed cab, and wished he hadn't.

They had his funeral on a sunny Thursday afternoon and Sara touched the casket and cried. Maybe she'd never stopped loving him. Maybe he'd never stopped loving her. They'd never find out now.

Daniel spoke, keeping his eulogy short and to the point because he knew he'd cry if he didn't. He spoke of Jack O'Neill, the friend, the big brother, the leader who could always be trusted. Sam got up too, but she choked up after one sentence had had to sit back down. Sara didn't say anything.

Out of all the threats to be found in the vast universe, drunk driving never seemed near the top of the list. Not until it touched so close to home. Not until there was a face to go with the statistics.

A face with brown eyes and a smile that never quite hid the pain he'd lived. The face of a man who lived as a hero, and died a martyr to the cause of alcohol on a cold Colorado night.

**fin**


	15. fallen

**Title:** Fallen

**Summary:** She saw them fall.

**Spoilers:** 2010

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Character death (canon)

**Category:** Angst, episode tag

**Originally Published:** 6.29.04

**Word Count:** 434

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Original Author's Note:** Inspired by Ewokmonster's amazing 2010 video "Someday".

* * *

She saw them fall. 

Teal'c was first, just after he dialed the 'gate. He backed up and fired his staff weapon once, and then he went face first to the floor. She had rarely seen him fall; he was so strong, so steady, and now, just like that, he was down. Maybe it was mostly her fault, for refusing to accept her CO's long-ago reservations as valid, but she had no time to dwell on that now. Not when they had a chance to fix everything.

The Colonel went down next; he swooped in like some action movie hero and she saw when the shots started hitting him. He flinched and hung by one hand for an instant, then tumbled to the floor. She saw him squeeze his eyes shut in pain, but he didn't give up easily. He never had.

Crawling on hands and knees, with the note clutched desperately in his hand, he made it halfway up the steps before his chin dropped to the cold stone. His eyes were wide and staring, his mouth hanging open, frozen as if in surprise at his own death.

She saw Daniel bolt in from the side, saw him collapse far short of his objective. His lips formed a silent protest, and he died with a zat in his hand. She couldn't help but see the irony in that—their peacemaking archaeologist, dying as a warrior.

She faintly heard Joe shouting from behind her, but all she saw was her team—yes, despite years and painful rifts, they were still _her team_—lying so still. And she saw the note in Jack's hand, the note that could save them all.

She ran.

Her feet slapped against the floor and her heart pounded in her ears. Joe was screaming, but she didn't care any more, even though she'd promised. She couldn't walk away, not after they had sacrificed everything.

They'd taken out just enough of the Automated Defense System that she had the note in her hand before the first shot struck her back. The pain was excruciating, but she forced herself to keep moving, one agonizing step at a time.

At the top, so tantalizingly close to the open 'gate, she lost her footing and fell forward. With the last of her dimming vision she saw the note disappear into the undulating blue of the event horizon.

And she knew, in those last airless seconds before everything faded, that it could never have ended any other way.

They were SG-1. They would always be SG-1, and they would die together, as they had lived together.

**fin**


	16. did you hear me?

**Title:** Did You Hear Me?

**Summary:** Does Daniel ever dream of Sha're?

**Spoilers:** "Meridian", "Full Circle", "The Lost City", "Forever in a Day", "Children of the Gods"

**Pairings:** Daniel/Sha're

**Warnings:** Hankie warning

**Category:** Angst

**Originally Published:** 7.8.04

**Word Count:** 458

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Original Author's Note:** Set between part two of "The Lost City" and part one of "New Order".

* * *

I dreamed you came back to me on a cold night in September and when I looked up you were standing in the doorway. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.

We didn't know what to say because it's been so long and everything has changed, so we just looked at each other, like we did that first night on Abydos, when your hair was an unruly cloud of black curls. I always loved your hair, and the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed.

When I woke up you were still dead and I never got to ask whether you heard me say I loved you too.

All morning long, even on the way to work, I felt like you were so close I could almost smell your scent. In my car on a mountain road in a state you never visited until you were dead, I said "I love you", but you never answered. I don't know whether you heard.

Your son is an ascended being; you'd be proud of him. Skaara too, for that matter. I was also ascended for a while, but I didn't stay that way. I don't remember much about it, but if you weren't there, it couldn't have been that great.

I guess you never really knew Sam. She's a good friend, and sometimes when she smiles or when her eyes grow very wide in amazement, she almost reminds me of you.

You remember Jack, I'm sure, although he's changed a lot since that first mission to Abydos. He's currently frozen solid down in Antarctica somewhere, because he sacrificed himself to save us all. I was going to do it, but he wouldn't let me. That's Jack.

Teal'c you knew only as the man who chose you, and later as the man who killed you. He is my friend, and a more loyal friend I could never hope to find. But sometimes, though I hate to admit it, I look at him and the first thing that comes to mind is, _He killed Sha're._

I miss a lot of things about you. I miss the way you sang in Abydonian in the evenings, your voice so soft I could barely hear it. I miss waking up with your hair tickling my arm, lying perfectly still so I wouldn't wake you. I miss the way you'd look over at me and smile sometimes, even when there wasn't anything special to smile about. There were a lot of things about you that I didn't even realize I loved until you were gone.

God, I miss you. So much. I miss you, but I can make it through if you'll just tell me one thing: did you hear me say I loved you?

**fin**


	17. looking in

**Title:** Looking In

**Summary:** Janet Fraiser looks in on the SGC.

**Spoilers:** "Heroes Part 2", "Lockdown"

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Refers to canon character death

**Category:** Angst, episode tag

**Originally Published:** 7.26.04

**Word Count:** 401

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

* * *

Daniel got shot today.

Colonel O'Neill—I'm sorry, _General_ O'Neill—didn't have any other choice, and as it turned out, he may have saved Daniel's life. His action prevented Teal'c from having to use the zat'nikatel for a second time.

The blood loss was frightening. Dark red liquid pooled under Daniel's shoulder and Jack's face went pale when he saw it. For a moment, he almost looked old. It's easy to forget that he really is aging—that he's not the young soldier he used to be—until moments like this. Moments when one of his team members is lying on the cold concrete, bleeding.

I suppose they're not officially his team members any more, but at heart those four people will always be a team. I know how they feel about each other. Beyond the sometimes childish teasing and bickering is a connection, a fierce loyalty, an intangible _something_ that makes them a family. I've seen members of SG-1 hold a beside vigil for a wounded comrade, sitting in uncomfortable plastic chairs until their eyes drooped with exhaustion. I've seen them sacrifice for each other, cry for each other. I've seen them willing to die for each other.

The new doctor, Dr. Brightman, worked quickly and efficiently to save Daniel's life. As much as I sometimes resent her presence, I had to appreciate that.

I shouldn't really be so resentful, I suppose. It isn't as if they had a choice. They had to replace me with someone.

I am, after all, dead.

At times, I don't _feel_ dead, but I know that I am. I remember dying with a smoking hole in my chest, with Daniel screaming for a medical team. I know I didn't ascend, because I saw them bury my pale, lifeless body.

Now I'm here, just beyond the living, just beyond the reach of those I love. I'm dead. But I'm still me.

And, somehow, I can still see into the SGC. I don't know how or why. I'm no guardian angel; if I had been, I could have stopped Anubis, could have at least warned the SGC. I could have saved Daniel the pain, Jack the guilt.

I couldn't do anything, because I am dead.

At times I miss the life I led and the friends I had, but for today, all is well, because once again, SG-1 has been granted its place among the living.

**fin**


	18. i miss you most at night

**Title:** I Miss You Most At Night

**Summary:** Daniel thinks about Sha're.

**Spoilers:** The whole Sha're story arc

**Pairings:** Daniel/Sha're

**Warnings:** Slight hankie warning

**Category:** Angst

**Originally Published:** 7.26.04

**Word Count:** 296

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

* * *

I miss you most at night in summer, when stars stretch out forever and the wind blows lonely off the Rockies. Sometimes the moonlight is so bright I can make out the mountains—the lower slopes carpeted green with pine, and the jagged peaks thrust toward heaven, mottled gray and white with rock and lingering snow.

Even in summer, Colorado nights can be cold, with air like chilled wine and silence so thick I feel I could reach out and grab handfuls of it. It's then, when my breath hangs in foggy clouds around my face, when I am alone, that I miss you most.

It's then that I remember how long it's been since I saw you last. How far away I am—millions of miles—from the place we called home for one short, perfect year.

I miss you in springtime too, when birds begin to sing and rivers rush icy down off the slopes and flowers timidly poke their heads up from the ice. I miss you in winter, when big fluffy snowflakes drift down and children sled and build snowmen until their cheeks are bright from the icy air. I will always wonder what you would have thought of snow.

I miss you in autumn, too, when aspens splash vivid yellow streaks across mountainsides and drop their fluttering leaves to carpet emerald meadows. I wonder what you would have thought of so many trees in one place.

But I still miss you most on clear summer nights, when silence falls and you are so far away. I miss you most when I can see a billion stars, your world not among them—not even a pinprick of light in the cobalt skies over Colorado to assure me you weren't just a dream.

**fin**


	19. dark shadows

**Title:** Dark Shadows

**Summary:** After a mission goes horribly wrong, Sam struggles for survival.

**Spoilers:** None

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Violence, character death

**Category:** Angst/tragedy, drama

**Originally Published:** 6.29.04

**Word Count:** 951

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Author's Note:** So originally, this was intended to be a multi-chapter story, with a plot and everything. Sadly, my plans for it went nowhere, so I turned it into a violent, oneshot deathfic instead. You've been warned.

* * *

Her heart was pounding and her breath came in great gasps. Looking down, she saw that her hands were shaking uncontrollably. She knew she was going into shock, but she couldn't let herself collapse. Not yet.

Daniel and Teal'c were dead.

This mission had gone downhill from the beginning. It had been pouring rain when they stepped through the gate, and slogging through the pungent mud had quickly made them all miserable and grouchy.

They'd hiked almost three clicks over the rolling hills, toward the 'fascinating' ancient temples previously revealed by the UAV, when the attack had come. The natives had been utterly silent—not even Colonel O'Neill or Teal'c had sensed their approach.

There had been only a faint whistling sound, and then Daniel hit the ground in front of her with an ugly steel arrow protruding from his chest. His blue eyes, wide with shock, held hers for a split second before they glazed over.

Despite the danger, she'd dropped to her knees to feel desperately for a pulse, finding none. Daniel was dead. No more than two minutes ago, she'd been bickering with him over something petty and insignificant, and now he was dead.

A grunt behind her, then a thud, and Teal'c was down. Two arrowheads stuck out of his chest and another out of his back. Even if he'd still had his symbiote, he never would have survived such massive damage.

She and the Colonel had made it to the tree line, but not before an arrow had grazed O'Neill's arm, leaving an ugly gash. He'd been mostly silent since then, his face formed into the carefully expressionless mask that usually meant he was hiding pain.

She was hiding pain, too, and she hadn't even been injured.

Teal'c and Daniel were dead.

The natives had proven quite terrified of the automatic Tau'ri weapons, which was why Carter and O'Neill were still alive as they approached the Stargate. It had been hours now—Sam wasn't sure how many—and they were finally close to home.

Ahead of her, the Colonel slowed, approaching the DHD. For an eternity, all Sam had heard was the soft, even breathing of her CO, and the panicked beating of her own heart. The weight of such sudden and devastating loss had left her numb, and she knew the only way to survive was to concentrate on one step at a time, one foot in front of the other. Step. Step. Step.

Fully expecting O'Neill to begin dialing home immediately, Sam turned to look behind her for any signs of pursuit, and the Colonel said, "Carter."

There was something in his voice, something that made her turn sharply toward him, and when she did, he hit her.

The blow was unexpected and brutal, rattling her teeth. She staggered back, stunned, and he swung his P-90 at her right leg. There was a sickening crunch. Unable to suppress a short shriek of agony, she collapsed. He kicked her in the side and she felt ribs shatter.

"Sir!" She screamed, as much from shock as pain. "Sir, _don't!"_

His eyes were blank, cold. He wasn't a Goa'uld—she would have known if he was—but clearly, he was no longer in control of his actions.

He drew back his foot for the kick that would drive razor sharp shards of bone into Sam's lungs, and she grabbed for her sidearm.

The first shot struck him high in the chest near his right shoulder, and for a desperately hopeful moment she thought it would stop him. It didn't. He moved forward again and left her no choice.

She fired three rounds into the chest of her commanding officer, killing him instantly.

* * *

"Unauthorized incoming wormhole!"

General George Hammond headed for the Control Room, his brow creased worriedly. There were three teams offworld, and of those three, one—SG-1—was five hours overdue.

"Receiving a signal, sir," Sergeant Davis said, eyes fixed on his computer screen. "It's SG-1."

"Open the iris."

When the iris was opened but no one appeared after several minutes, General Hammond ordered the activation of the MALP they'd left on the other side of the gate. There was nothing interesting on the screen at first, but when Davis panned the camera to the left, the battered figure of Major Carter came into view. She was clinging to the DHD for support, and her face was ashen.

"Major Carter, report," Hammond said.

"Sir." The blond Major was clearly having trouble breathing. "We were...attacked...by hostiles. Dr. Jackson and Teal'c...killed. Colonel O'Neill was...wounded. Arrows poisoned...he became hostile..." she coughed, blood trickling down her chin, and he saw the tears overflowing her blue eyes. "Sorry. So sorry. Had no choice. Sorry."

She was in shock, and badly injured from the look of things. "No need to apologize, Major," General Hammond said gently. "We're going to shut down the gate now, but we'll have a medical team there as soon as possible."

Major Carter nodded, blood trickling down her face and staining the green fabric of her long-sleeved shirt.

* * *

"Sam!"

Bright lights. Ceiling rushing by, making her dizzy. She was cold.

"Sam. Come on, stay with us."

Janet. The voice belonged to someone named Janet. Sam's vague mental image was of a petite build, cinnamon-colored hair, warm brown eyes.

"_Sam!"_

_Be quiet, Janet. Can't you see I'm trying to sleep?_

"No, Sam. No, you can't sleep now. Open your eyes. Come _on,_ Sam!" Janet was angry and crying at the same time.

From somewhere far away, Sam heard panicked shouting and a shrill high-pitched tone, just before the cold froze her soul and stilled her final breath.

**fin**


	20. alone

**Title:** Alone

**Summary:** He left her a cabin next to a lake, a daughter named Danielle, and a smile.

**Spoilers:** "Meridian"

**Pairings:** Jack/OC

**Warnings:** Character death

**Category:** Angst, future fic, AU

**Originally Published:** 7.27.04

**Word Count:** 1,092

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Author's Note:** This story is set far into the future in an alternate universe where "Meridian" happened, but "Fallen" didn't. So spoilers for "Meridian".

* * *

It's been raining all day.

The sky is clearing a little now, small patches of blue becoming visible through jagged rips in the leaden clouds. She guesses it will be clear and cold by sundown, with a billion stars sparkling overhead.

He loved the stars.

He always said it was because he liked astronomy, but sometimes she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more there. That something, from his shadowed past, connected him to those distant pinpricks in the night sky more deeply than she would ever know.

She's never been nosy. Maybe that was why they were so good together—because she didn't ask questions, didn't dredge up the past that lay shrouded in secrecy. She always let it be enough that he was here, now, and that he loved her. In one of his rare open moments, he once told her just how much he appreciated that.

There's a throbbing ache in her left knee and her fingers, when she flexes them absent-mindedly, are stiff. She doesn't remember getting old—it seems that one morning she woke up and looked in the mirror and saw an old woman where a girl had stood the day before. Even then, she wasn't too worried, because she had him.

Their love was nothing flashy or dramatic, not the stuff of romance novels. It was quiet and deep and comfortable, and now, being suddenly alone, old age seems much more frightening to her.

She swore once, so many years ago, that she'd never marry again. That she'd never risk going through the pain for a second time. She had fallen passionately in love, married just out of high school, and given birth to four beautiful children, the youngest of whom was barely two when his father died in a boating accident.

She'd sworn she'd never love again, and then years later she had seen him and their eyes had met and from the beginning, they had understood each other. He'd also been married years before, and he too had known loss. There were dark secrets hidden behind his brown eyes, secrets that had shaped him but not destroyed him. She had loved him, secrets and all, because he understood her. That had been enough.

Love is different the second time around. It was for her, at least. The first time was fire and passion, and, when her husband died, gut-wrenching pain so fierce she would have killed herself if not for the children. This time there are no hysterical sobs, no screams of agony—just a silent emptiness in the space he used to fill. She is alone in late afternoon, under a clearing sky, with drops of moisture still dripping off tree limbs onto her head.

A car door slams somewhere, and she hears the cadence of steps moving toward her. Even before she looks up, she knows who it is. Her youngest. Her fifth child. The baby she wouldn't have believed she could have. She thought her childbearing days were over, but she was wrong.

The youngest daughter's name is Danielle Sha're. He chose the name, and when she asked where it came from, he said only that it was for someone he knew a long time ago. For the first and only time, she insisted that he give her more information. She wanted to know of this distant person who was worthy of naming a child after.

He finally gave in and told her, and when she saw the raw pain in his eyes she almost regretted asking. There had been two people, he said—a husband and wife, Daniel and Sha're. Sha're was a beautiful, feisty Egyptian girl who died tragically. Daniel was a gentle archaeologist who could be passionate about what he believed in. He died only a few years after his wife.

He never told her where or how he met them or even anything about how they died, and she never asked. It was enough to know that they had meant so much to him. She could tell by the way his voice sounded when he spoke their names, by the way his eyes softened every time they were mentioned afterward. He told her once, very suddenly, that Daniel had been his best friend, that they had tried to save Sha're together and had failed. He didn't say so, but she could tell he'd never forgiven himself for that.

In his sleep not so many years ago he shouted for Daniel, awakening her sometime in the early hours of the morning. His voice was desperate, and she was just about to wake him when his tone suddenly softened and he told a distant ghost of his past that it was all right to let go. That he would tell the others. That he would make them understand. And just before he fell silent he whispered, "Goodbye, Daniel."

She cried silently afterward, knowing that Charlie wasn't the only person he called to in the depths of his dreams.

"Mom?"

The trembling voice jerks her from the corridors of memory back to the present. Danielle's face is red and her brown eyes shine with tears. She must have driven here, to the middle of nowhere in Minnesota, all the way from Rice University in Houston.

"I'm sorry," Danielle says shakily. "I came as soon as I could."

"I know you did." She reaches out to hug her youngest child, her daughter, Jack's daughter. To let her know that it's okay. That she couldn't have changed anything by arriving sooner.

He's been gone nearly two days now. It was late evening when he died, with the sun just sinking past the horizon. He opened those beautiful brown eyes and looked at her, his gaze intense, his eyes asking a question as clearly as his voice ever could.

And she told him that it was okay to let go. She told him that she'd tell the kids, that she would make them understand. She told him to go find Charlie...and Daniel. He looked at her again, almost startled, and then he smiled. It was one of those full-fledged cocky grins that still made him look like a kid.

In the end, he left her a cabin next to a lake, a daughter named Danielle, and a smile. The cabin will be home for the rest of her life. The daughter will be his legacy, and hers. And the smile will last her for the remaining years, however few or however many, that she will have to live without him.

**fin**


	21. goodbyes

**Title:** Goodbyes

**Summary:** It was just after Hathor's planet when he came to her with a request.

**Spoilers:** "Out of Mind"

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Character death

**Category:** Angst/Tragedy

**Originally Published:** 8.17.04

**Word Count:** 433

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

* * *

It was just after Hathor's planet when he came to her with a request.

He came not because he trusted her more than the others. He came because she was the one with the expertise to grant his request.

She was confused at first, then angry. He had no right, she said, because as long as he was alive, they would have hope of saving him. He didn't return her anger; he spoke quietly and persuasively. And in the end, because he was her CO and her friend and because she respected him, she gave in.

At first she told him it would never work, because they would just revive him in a sarcophagus. He looked at her with that calm brown-eyed gaze and told her to create something a sarcophagus couldn't fix. Eventually, she did.

She asked him not to use it unless there was no hope, none at all. He promised, but it didn't make her feel much better.

It was just after the fourth of July when they were captured. On their first mission after a holiday break, they walked into a trap. He blamed himself, even though it wasn't his fault.

When the Goa'uld came to interrogate them, he was sarcastic and insulting, because he was the leader and that was what he did. He was chosen—maybe because of his attitude, or maybe because symbiotes had a thing for brown-eyed Colonels with hair turning silver. No one would ever know.

As he was led away he fixed his eyes on each of them in turn, silently telling them goodbye and he was sorry and it had been an honor. He waited until the symbiote was placed on his chest, because when he went, the SOB would go with him.

She knew what was coming. The others didn't. Not until the next room exploded, and it was too late to say goodbye. They escaped in the resulting chaos—without him.

It was just after New Year's Day five years later when they finally defeated the Goa'uld. Afterward the three of them gathered in the 'gate room, bandaged and bruised and limping from their battle wounds, and talked about nothing, mostly. It had been so long and so hard that for now, they just wanted to sit and have nothing to do, no battles to fight.

But after a while Daniel looked at the others and could tell they were thinking the same thing he was. And after a few more minutes of silence he said the only thing there was to say. He said, "I wish he was here."

**fin**


	22. native beverages

**Title:** Native Beverages

**Summary:** Daniel's slightly tipsy. Jack says "for cryin' out loud", but only once.

**Spoilers:** Very slight for "Brief Candle"

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Silly randomness

**Category:** Humor, dialogue-only, Jack & Daniel friendship

**Originally Published:** 9.1.04

**Word Count:** 257

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Original Author's Note:** My third dialogue-only fic. Very random, like me.

* * *

"Jack."

"Daniel."

"Jack?"

"Daniel?"

"Did you know that every member of this team has an 'a' in his or her first name?"

"Teal'c only has one name."

"So? It's still his first name. It's not his second name, is it?"

"You know you sound like an annoyed five-year-old when you get that tone of voice?"

"I do not!"

"Do."

"Not."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Yes, Daniel, you do. And your prior observation is important because...why?"

"What if someday we met this group of people who worshiped A's? A-liens? A-liens, get it?"

"Yes, Daniel, I get it."

"And what if they thought that any person without an 'A' in his name was a heretic, and they burned people alive if they didn't have A's in their names and..."

"Daniel."

"What?"

"This is the _last_ time I let you drink something the villagers offer you."

"But Jack, it would have hurt the girl's feelings if I'd refused!"

"Looks like you're hurting her feelings worse by refusing...uh...something else."

"Yeah, about that..."

"Daniel! Don't even think about it!"

"But Jaaaack..."

"Daniel! For cryin' out loud, we're on another _planet!_ You could get the honkin' mother of all STDs! You could get something that makes you age ten years every day!"

"But she's pretty."

"For the love of God, Daniel! You are _never_ drinking anything alcoholic again. I'm making sure of that."

"You don't think she's pretty?"

"Well, you know what they say, Danny. Beauty's in the eye of the beer holder."

"It wasn't beer, Jack."

"Same difference."

**fin**


	23. the dance

**Title:** The Dance

**Summary:** Under the moons and stars of Abydos, Daniel Jackson learned to dance.

**Spoilers:** None (takes place between movie and "Children of the Gods")

**Pairings:** Daniel/Sha're

**Warnings:** Slight innuendo

**Category:** Romance (a.k.a complete sappiness)

**Originally Published:** 9.27.04

**Word Count:** 587

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Original Author's Note:** This is without a doubt the sappiest thing I have ever written, but my beta says she likes it, so it's all good.

* * *

_And now_

_Glad I didn't know_

_The way it all would end_

_The way it all would go_

_Our lives are better left to chance_

_I could have missed the pain_

_But I'd have had to miss_

_The dance_

* * *

Sha're was laughing, her dark eyes sparkling and her wild curly hair windblown. In her drab tan robes, she was the most beautiful woman Daniel had ever seen.

"We are here!" She spun in a wide circle, throwing her arms out like a child. She seemed so young sometimes, this fiery and passionate woman given to him by the fates, perhaps to make up for all the pain he'd suffered in his life.

"Is it not beautiful?" Sha're was continuing, too exuberant to notice that her husband was being unusually quiet. "My own parents would come here long ago, when they were first married, to..." She paused suggestively.

Daniel's cheeks began to redden.

Sha're laughed, taking her husband's hand and dragging him across the rocks, which were worn smooth by the feet of thousands of couples down through the millennia. When the spring came into sight, Daniel would have stopped and stared if not for his wife's grip on his hand. Sha're was right—such a place on arid Abydos was rare and beautiful.

"Before my mother died, she told me this was a magical place," Sha're said, sitting down on a polished red stone and pulling her husband down next to her. "Both Skaara and I were born after she and my father came here." Leaning her shoulder against Daniel's chest and raising her face to his, she whispered, "Perhaps the magic is still here..."

Sha're of Abydos then proceeded to kiss her husband, one of those intense kisses that left him speechless and generally confused for at least fifteen minutes afterward. It wasn't fair, really; every time Sha're wanted something, all she had to do was lay on one of those kisses, and he'd agree to the most outrageous of requests.

"Wow," Daniel said, when he could breathe again. "That—that was—"

Unable to suppress a smile at her husband's open-mouthed, round-eyed expression, Sha're looked up at the sky. The sun was setting, its red light showering across her beautiful dark-skinned face and highlighting her thick black hair with shades of scarlet.

"Look!" She pointed to where one of the moons was appearing, a thumbnail-like sliver in the evening sky. "Come, Danyel." Without further ado, she pulled her husband out onto a wide, flat rock.

"Now," she said happily, "we will dance."

"_Dance?"_ Daniel sputtered. "Oh, oh no Sha're, I don't dance. I, I, really, I can't dance at all. I'm really terrible at—"

"Then I will teach you," Sha're replied patiently, ignoring his protests. "It is a tradition, Danyel. Under the moons and the stars, we dance, and then the magic will come to us." She raised her eyebrows a little, prompting what could possibly have been another blush.

"Sha're, really, I, I can't—"

"Yes, Danyel, you can," Sha're replied serenely. "You put your foot here, and I put my foot _here,_ and then..."

And so, under the moons and the stars of Abydos, with the melody of a bubbling spring providing the only music, Daniel Jackson learned to dance.

He'd never been able to dance before, not once in his life, until now. Maybe this dance was different, easier somehow, or maybe it was just that, for the first time, he was dancing with someone who belonged to him. Someone to whom he belonged as well. Their rhythm was perfect, and the magic flowed around them like syrup, surrounding and enveloping them.

And Daniel Jackson realized that, for the first time in his life, he was truly and completely happy.

* * *

_Yes, my life_

_Is better left to chance_

_I could have missed the pain_

_But I'd have had to miss..._

_The dance_


	24. farewell

**Title:** Farewell

**Summary:** No one sees Jack O'Neill cry.

**Spoilers:** "Heroes Part 2"

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Character death (canon)

**Category:** Angst, missing scene for "Heroes"

**Originally Published:** 9.27.04

**Word Count:** 590

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

* * *

Jack is floating, hanging in a fuzzy medicated haze somewhere just short of consciousness. Because he's been here so many times, he knows he is in the infirmary well before he registers the sound of beeping machines.

It takes him a while to force his eyes open, and he blinks against the sudden bright light. There's a dull ache in his chest, the kind of ache that promises to blossom into agony if he's not careful.

There's someone nearby—he can hear the cadence of soft breathing, and another sound he can't readily identify. Forcing his muscles to respond, he slowly turns his head to see Carter perched precariously in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs.

She is crying. Carter is _sobbing._

He knows he isn't hurt badly enough to merit such an emotional response from his 2IC, so that leaves only one possibility: Carter's crying over someone else.

The persistent ache in his chest is forgotten as his stomach ties itself into a painful knot. He has to know what happened. He has to know why Carter's crying.

He doesn't have on an oxygen mask, which is a nice change, but he can't quite get his voice to work either. Carter hasn't noticed him yet, so he pushes up with his elbows, trying to sit up.

Alarms sound and Carter jumps to her feet, wiping frantically at her face. Guiltily, Jack slides back down into a reclining position and waits for Doc to storm through the door, five feet of intensity in high heels, berating him for trying to move.

Only she doesn't.

"Sir, you're awake," Carter says, her voice breaking on the last word. Her voice is clogged with tears, and her nose is running. She looks awful.

A nurse with red-rimmed eyes enters the room, her lips pressed tightly together as if she's trying to keep from crying herself. "Don't try to move, sir," she says, then mechanically checks a few readings. Then a look passes between the two women, and the nurse turns and leaves.

Jack doesn't think he wants to hear what will be said next. He squeezes his eyes shut, as if he can make it all go away, as if he can float back into oblivion where nothing matters.

It doesn't work. He didn't really expect it to.

"Sir?" Carter whispers, moving closer until he can feel her breath on his cheek. "Sir, I know you're awake." Silence. "Sir—" Her voice chokes off in a sob.

Slowly, feeling very old, he opens clouded brown eyes again. "Carter?" He croaks weakly. With one word, he has managed to ask the million-dollar question.

"It's Janet," she says, confirming what he already suspected. Her next words aren't really necessary, but she says them anyway. "She didn't make it, sir. She was hit by a staff blast and by the time they got her home—oh God—"

"Carter." His hand reaches out to touch hers. "Carter..."

She pulls away, swiping almost angrily at the moisture on her face. "I have to—to—" In her current state, she can't even think of a good excuse. "Work on something," she finally finishes, turning on her heel and leaving the room before she loses it completely.

Jack stares at the doorway for a moment, still half expecting to see a feisty redhead in a long white coat come charging through. A single tear tracks its way down his face, and he turns his head quickly, wiping it away on the pillow.

No one sees Jack O'Neill cry.

**fin**


	25. hero

**Title:** Hero

**Summary:** In his mind, she'll always be a hero.

**Spoilers:** "Heroes"

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Character death (canon)

**Category:** Angst, future fic

**Originally Published:** 10.11.04

**Word Count:** 219

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

* * *

It was cold. Ice seeped into his bones, making his knees ache as he knelt. The snow melted beneath him, and cold liquid soaked through his jeans, chilling his skin.

He shouldn't be here, really. He'd just been let out of the infirmary with strict instructions not to overexert himself. The doctor had shaken her head at him as he left. Three-star Generals weren't supposed to get themselves shot under any circumstances.

Something about the tilt of her head and her look of exasperation had thrown him off, and for just an instant he'd thought she was...was...

So, you see, he had to come. After that instant of mistaken identity, the memories had flooded back in aching Technicolor, and now he was here and didn't know what to say.

In the end, he didn't say anything. He just carefully placed the roses on the snow in front of a stone that read: "In memory of Dr. Janet Fraiser." So few words to try to describe such a life.

When he turned away, it was with a lingering image in his head: brown eyes, auburn hair, a petite frame exuding confidence, high heels clicking as she walked away one last time.

The embodiment of compassion and courage.

In his mind, Janet Fraiser would always be a hero.

**fin**


	26. some days

**Title:** Some Days

**Summary:** Some days she doesn't even know why she fights any more.

**Spoilers:** None

**Pairings:** Sam/Daniel

**Warnings:** None

**Category:** Angst

**Originally Published:** 10.11.04

**Word Count:** 604

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

* * *

Some days are worse than others. Some days she doesn't even know why she fights any more.

On the better days, she can name a number of concrete reasons: because he wouldn't want her to give up. Because there's still hope, however faint it might be. Because 6 billion people are counting on her expertise, even though they don't know it.

On the worse days, none of those things matter and she wants to give up. It's usually one of her remaining teammates who keeps her going on days like that.

She loves them dearly, these two caring men who have become like brothers to her. But she knows, and they know, that she'll never love them like she loved him.

It was quiet, unspoken, the spark between them. She regrets that now. She wishes she'd told him everything. It's a little late for might-have-beens.

Today is going to be one of the bad days. She can tell that already, from the coffee she spilled this morning, from the bruise where she stubbed her toe, from the typo that completely negated a week's work on a complex equation. It's still early in the day and already she's near tears. She wants to leave. She wants to jump up and run down the hall screaming "to hell with it".

She can't do that, at least not until she's talked to one of her teammates. The two of them made her promise not to do anything rash unless she could justify it to one of them first. Damn them. They know she takes promises seriously.

She remembers how they looked, standing shoulder-to-shoulder, arms crossed, faces grim, looking ready to zat her unless she made the promise.

They only did it because they love her. Sometimes she almost hates them for loving her.

She pushes her chair back and gets up, resisting the urge to smash a piece of valuable alien technology before she leaves. That would definitely fit into the 'something rash' category.

Maybe, she thinks, she'll go talk to Teal'c. His deep voice and calm face are often strangely soothing on days like this. He's already talked her out of leaving at least a dozen times.

"Unauthorized incoming wormhole!"

As always, she does an about-face and heads for the Control Room. She's not sure why she keeps torturing herself, why she can't just accept that he's never coming home.

"Receiving IDC, sir," Graham Simmons is saying as she enters the Control Room. "It's...SG-1?"

She feels a sudden flare of absurd hope, and she looks at General Hammond. His face shows the intense internal struggle going on inside his head.

Anyone, anything, could have gotten that code. If they open the iris, they could be dooming the planet. But if they don't open it …

Her eyes meet General Hammond's and, without a word, she begs him to give the order. Begs him not to kill this last fragile tendril of hope.

He looks away, toward the Stargate. When he speaks, his voice is calm and authoritative. "Open the iris. Defense teams stand by."

Heavily armed SFs swarm the 'gate room as the iris opens. There is a nerve-wracking moment of breathless anticipation before the event horizon ripples slightly and a lone figure emerges.

He's thin. There are bruises on his face, his clothes are dirty and tattered, and he looks exhausted, but he's alive, and he has made it home.

Samantha Carter wants to run to him, but she finds that her knees can no longer support her weight. As she sinks into a chair, tears flood her eyes and she whispers his name.

"Daniel."

**fin**


	27. aftermath

**Title:** Aftermath

**Summary:** The room is empty now, silent and dark.

**Spoilers:** "Meridian"

**Pairings:** Daniel/Janet

**Warnings:** Character death (canon)

**Category:** Angst

**Originally Published:** 11.14.04

**Word Count:** 443

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

* * *

The room is empty now, silent and dark. She stands for a moment in the doorway, not sure whether she should enter. 

There's clutter everywhere, scattered on desks and shelves, spilling over onto the floor.

_Pages upon pages of translations._

_Worn journals filled with neat, even handwriting._

_Artifacts of all shapes and sizes—some alien, some broken, all priceless to their owner._

_Glasses, seeming still to reflect the blue eyes they will never cover again._

_Photographs: a little shaggy-haired boy with his archaeologist parents; a stunning dark-haired woman; a four-person team who became a family._

Strewn across this achingly silent room are bits and pieces of thirtysomething years filled with pain and love and strength and compassion. Always compassion. Dr. Daniel Jackson's capacity to care astounded even her on some occasions. Displaying quiet tenacity that earned him the respect of everyone with whom he worked, Daniel had carried on his own personal battle for truth and justice.

His team members are gone from here now, leaving the room in darkness.

Teal'c, whose silent anguish says more than words ever could.

Sam, who fights tears and struggles to keep her emotions in check like the good soldier she tries too hard to be.

Jack, whose stony face conceals every emotion, whose haunted dark eyes betray the fact that he's dying inside—he just can't admit it.

She hurts for him. She wants to tell him how wrong it is. She wants to tell him that normal humans need to express grief and pain as a part of the healing process. But she knows it won't help, because he's dealing with it the only way he knows how. Maybe in the end he never heals at all; maybe he just lives.

She hurts for Jack, knowing the lifetime of agony he keeps bottled up inside, this loss of his best friend only added to the list. She hurts for Teal'c, who never quite forgave himself for the fate of Sha're and who must now be blaming himself for Daniel's as well. She hurts for Sam, who found a brother and a friend and an anchor in the blue-eyed archaeologist.

But mostly, she hurts for herself.

For years she treated his injuries, re-started his heart, gave him injections, tried to provide some measure of comfort every time life knocked him down and kicked him.

But she never told him.

She never told him.

She lays her head down on the desk, drinking in the already-fading scent of a man who gave himself in one final act of caring.

"Daniel," she whispers. "Daniel, if you're here—if you can hear me, there's something I need to say..."

**fin**


	28. crazy

**Title:** Crazy

**Summary:** Sometimes he knows he's crazy, and it hurts most then because he knows he wasn't always.

**Spoilers:** None

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Character death

**Category:** Angst, character death, future fic

**Originally Published:** 1.12.05

**Word Count:** 723

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

* * *

His room smells of bleach and cheap shampoo. He's not sure why that bothers him so much, but it does. Strange things bother him, like sounds only he can hear and toast that isn't crisp enough and when he can't understand people even though he's sure they're speaking a language he knows.

He knows a lot of languages. Doesn't he?

He asks an orderly, very politely, if she can take him to the Stargate now. She looks at him like he's crazy.

Maybe he is.

* * *

There is, or was, a Stargate. He's sure of that. He sees it activating sometimes in the dead of night, sees each chevron locking, hears the distinctive _whoosh_ as the wormhole is established.

He doesn't call the orderlies in any more, because he knows they can't see it the way he can. When he tries to make them realize that it's _right there,_ right in front of their faces, they just give him more drugs. He doesn't like drugs.

They say he's hallucinating. Sometimes he thinks he isn't, that it's all real and it all makes perfect sense and they're the ones who can't understand. Sometimes he knows he's crazy and it hurts most then because he remembers that he wasn't always crazy.

Sometimes he doesn't really care, because he's too tired to think and his eyes hurt from looking at white walls and he wants to fall asleep and never wake up.

He dreams in bright, confused colors. He dreams of giant serpents with eyes that glow. He dreams of drowning in vile-smelling mud and of falling into water that's frozen and burns hotter than fire. He dreams of being buried alive and of clawing at the inside of the casket for _monthsyearsforever._

In most of his dreams, he's alone.

One night he isn't. One night there's a man with him, a man he trusts, a man who is or was his friend. The earth grows teeth and opens up and swallows the man, biting him in half first so bones snap and blood spurts and the man screams _Help me, Daniel, help me!_

He awakens shouting "Jack!"

"Who's Jack?" An orderly asks another, not really caring.

The second orderly shrugs. "Just some guy who used to come visit years ago."

* * *

A woman comes to see him. She has blue eyes and limp blond hair and a face that's tired and old. He knows that this is wrong, because she isn't old, she _isn't._

She asks him how he's doing. She sounds like she wants to cry, or maybe she's past the point of crying because she is so empty. He knows what it's like, to be empty.

He tells her he's fine. She nods and doesn't say anything. She must be a ghost, he thinks. She looks translucent, not-quite-solid, like she could turn to mist and be sucked away through the air vents. He tells her to be careful of the vents.

"I will," she says wearily, not understanding, and takes his hand for a moment. Her hand is cool and shaky. It looks fragile. _She_ looks fragile, and gray and not completely alive, and it's all wrong.

"Sam," he says, because suddenly he knows her name. "Have I always been crazy?"

"No." She doesn't bother to deny that he _is_ crazy. "No, Daniel, you were brilliant."

"Is there any such thing as a Stargate?"

"Yes." She tries to smile, tries too hard and it falls flat. "Yes, there is."

"Where's Jack?"

Pain flickers in her hollow, old eyes. "He's gone, Daniel. He died...a long time ago. So did Teal'c." She sounds tired and he thinks that maybe she's told him this before, many times before.

He can't think of anything else to say, and after a while he realizes she is gone. Maybe she turned into vapor, like water when it boils, and drifted away. He isn't sure.

Jack is dead and Teal'c is dead and soon Sam will be dead. He might not be sane but he saw that look in her eyes, that look of _goodbye_ and _I'm sorry_ and _it's not your fault_. She's too weary to fight any more. Maybe he is too.

That night he doesn't dream of ice water that burns or of being buried alive. He doesn't dream at all.

He goes to sleep and never wakes up.

**fin**


	29. the absence of slumber

**Title:** The Absence of Slumber

**Summary:** You don't think you'll ever sleep again.

**Spoilers:** None

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Character death

**Category:** Angst/tragedy

**Originally Published:** 1.12.05

**Word Count:** 627

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Original author's note:** One day I was reflecting on my story "Dark and Stormy Night", and I found myself thinking, "Jack was lucky. What if that wine had been poison?" This was the result.

* * *

You think you're strong, that you can survive anything because you've already survived so much. You think that letting go will get easier, that grief will get less severe.

They never do.

* * *

The wind is cold, and you tell yourself that that's what is making your eyes tear up. Your hands are shoved into your pockets and you're walking quickly. You hope no one tries to speak to you.

You're almost to your vehicle when you hear the call behind you. It's Sam, her wild uncombed hair and blotchy face making her look as bad as you feel.

"I don't want to talk," you say. You try to open the door, and she kicks it back shut.

"Go away." You sound hollow, cold. She looks at you with empty eyes. You won't blame her if she hates you. _You_ hate you.

"You're _going_ to talk to me," she says. Damn her.

"No," you reply. "No, I'm not. I'm going home."

"Then I'm going with you." She launches herself into the passenger seat and stares at you belligerently, daring you to disagree.

"Get out," you say.

"No!" She's shouting now. "No! I'm not going to let you walk away from here!"

You stare at her. You're tired, too tired for this. You see her face soften, know your mask has slipped.

"It wasn't your fault," she says gently.

The words are empty, and she knows it, because it _was_ your fault.

* * *

_La'tran, leader of the Dobrisians, smiled as he extended a glass full of murky red liquid. "It is our finest drink," he said, "presented only to great leaders."_

_Jack O'Neill stepped back slightly, looking uncertain. "Daniel?" He mumbled under his breath._

* * *

She stares at you, tears streaking her puffy face. "Please," she says. "Please don't do anything stupid."

Maybe she knows you're almost over the edge, and too exhausted to care any more.

* * *

"_If they offer it to honored guests, then it should be okay," Daniel whispered. "See if you can get away with taking just one sip. It's probably pretty potent."_

_Jack nodded and moved forward, looking more relaxed. Accepting the cup, he took one big swallow, made a slight face, and handed it back._

"_Tastes like bad wine," he commented under his breath._

_La'tran broke into a wide smile. "Welcome to Dobrisi, people of the Tau'ri!"_

* * *

"Daniel," she says. "Daniel, promise me. Please."

You nod, looking everywhere but into her eyes. "I promise," you say softly, and she lets you go, because she's never known you to break a promise.

You aren't sure yet whether you'll break this one.

* * *

_It took ten minutes for Jack to become unusually quiet, for his face to shutter the way it always did when he was hiding something. Five minutes after that, he let out a choked sob and collapsed._

_They knew then that it was bad, because Jack didn't cry. Ever._

_The pain must have been bad. He bit through his tongue and low gurgling sounds came from his throat. He screamed once, finally, and blood trickled from his mouth and he writhed, sobbing._

_By the time they got him back to Earth, he was dead, his skin cold and gray. He didn't look asleep—he looked frozen in eternal torment, his sightless eyes anguished._

* * *

Jack is dead, and it's your fault.

The Dobrisians were just protecting themselves. If Jack had been Goa'uld, the poison wouldn't have harmed him—his death convinced the Dobrisians that the Tau'ri could be trusted. Of course, there will be no alliance now that they killed your best friend.

You go home, driving carefully on the icy road. You shower and go to bed and don't do anything stupid.

Jack is dead, and it's your fault.

You don't think you'll ever sleep again.

**fin**


	30. minnesota

**Title:** Minnesota

**Summary:** Sam Carter really, really likes Minnesota.

**Spoilers:** "New Order"

**Pairings:** Jack/Sam

**Warnings:** Sappiness

**Category:** Romance (a.k.a complete and utter mush)

**Originally Published:** 2.6.05

**Word Count:** 332

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Original Author's Note:** I am not personally a J/S shipper, but my patient beta deserved a reward for putting up with my Sam/Daniel and Jack/Janet stories...so I wrote this for her.

* * *

Mornings are chilly here. Wisps of steam rise off the lake, and her breath makes streamers of hazy fog around her face. She loves the crispness of the air, the solitude to be found in the cold stillness of the forest. It's a welcome respite from the hectic schedule that comes with working at the SGC.

She knows he's there even before she hears his footsteps. He wraps his arms around her waist, and she feels his breath warm against the back of her neck.

"Morning, Carter," he says softly.

She laughs, a wisp of steam puffing from her mouth. _"Carter?"_

"Sorry. I meant Sam." The arms tighten slightly. "Force of habit. You called me 'sir' yesterday."

She decides it's best to drop that particular subject. "So," she says. "How do you like being retired?"

"I like it...a lot, actually." His tone is teasing now. "So far, anyway. I think it'll get a lot more dull next week, though."

She turns within his embrace, so she can look into his eyes. "I know. I wish I didn't have to go back so soon. Maybe I should just—"

"C'mon, Sam," he chides gently. "The SGC needs that brain of yours if they're to match wits with the universe. Besides, you and Daniel are the official ambassadors to the Asgard now that I'm gone."

"You just wait, Jack. The next time Thor needs you, he'll beam you right up onto the _Daniel Jackson_ and claim he didn't know you were retired."

"That'll go over like a lead balloon, considering that I personally told him I was retiring."

"Do the Asgard get amnesia?"

He's laughing at her now, his chest shaking slightly. She loves his smile, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. His mouth is completely irresistible when he smiles, so, logically, she kisses him.

It's some time later when they finally come up for air. The temperature seems to have risen several degrees by then.

Samantha Carter really, really likes Minnesota.

**fin**


	31. control

**Title:** Control

**Summary:** He controls the universe.

**Spoilers:** "Reckoning", parts one and two

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Blood, possible character death (canon)

**Category:** Drama, episode tag

**Originally Published:** 2.17.05

**Word Count:** 344

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Original Author's Note:** I adored "Reckoning"...it gave me a whole new level of admiration for Daniel, whom I've always loved as a character. He's awesome.

* * *

He controls the universe.

For a few all-encompassing moments he holds the fate of all he loves. The enemy stops at his command.

He thinks he can feel his entire body trembling with the strain of fighting against a million minds that want to destroy him. His head feels like it's going to explode.

"There are so many, aren't there? Too many for your mind to handle."

The sibilant voice breaks his concentration, and his fragile hold over her slips. He opens his eyes. She's smiling a perfect, soulless smile.

He is losing. He is going to die. It doesn't matter so long as he gives his friends enough time to save themselves.

"It is taking all your concentration just to control them."

She wrenches control from him and suddenly he's back in reality, back in her ship, back in his fragile body where he can do nothing but watch as she conquers a galaxy.

He steps toward her even knowing how futile resistance is. She smiles.

The blade feels hot, like molten rock, and it slices through bone like butter and oh God ithurtsithurtsithurts.

He falls, choking on blood, and lands against a wall. The thick copper fluid fills his mouth as his damaged lungs rattle to a stop.

She looks smug. He challenged her and lost. Not even Samantha Carter's memories prepared her for the unwavering strength and resolve of this man. In controlling her brethren even briefly, Daniel Jackson did something no human should ever be able to do. Her victory is made only sweeter by the fact that he's the strongest man she's ever met.

It isn't fair, he thinks, to have to die staring at the mind of a monster behind the face of a friend.

It hurts so much...

In the last second before the wave hits, he sees the realization in her face, the knowledge of defeat and death and the loss of everything.

An instant before the ship breaks into a billion shimmering pieces, he decides it isn't so bad to die saving the universe.

**fin**


	32. loss

**Title:** Loss

**Summary:** He is surprised he still remembers how to cry.

**Spoilers:** "Children of the Gods", "Forever in a Day"

**Pairings:** Daniel/Sha're

**Warnings:** Possible hankie warning

**Category:** Angst, episode tag for "Forever in a Day"

**Originally Published:** 2.17.05

**Word Count:** 313

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

* * *

He can't sleep because he's so very tired. He lies awake and stares up at the ceiling. He doesn't think he would see anything even if there was light.

He is being punished, he thinks. He let down his guard and walked away. He left her unprotected. He thought she would be fine. He was wrong.

He isn't a soldier. He's being punished for not being a soldier.

No matter how hard he tries, the memories never leave him alone. They loop endlessly in his head, taunting him, a thousand sparkling moments that never ended in happily ever after.

He didn't mean to put her in danger. He would have given everything to save her, but in the end, everything wasn't enough.

Tears never come. Sometimes he thinks it would hurt less if he could cry, but he can't. As a confused, hurting little boy he used up enough tears for a thousand lifetimes. Maybe he's being punished for that too.

She was so beautiful and so strong. She must have fought, every minute, every second the demon controlled her body. She never gave up. The woman he saw for a split second at the very end was no shattered husk of humanity. She was the same vibrant person who mocked his flour-grinding skills and loved him with a passion that never failed to surprise him.

He closes his eyes. His brain is beginning to shut down from sheer exhaustion.

In that brief period before sleep, when dreams blur with reality, he sees her face. She smiles.

"I am Sha're of Abydos," she says. "I am free."

He feels frozen. He can't move or speak. Her hands caress his face, and she whispers, "I love you for always."

His eyes pop open and he sees darkness. The silence is very loud. She's gone forever.

He is surprised he still remembers how to cry.

**fin**


	33. isle o'neill

**Title:** Isle O'Neill

**Summary:** How can they think they never knew him?

**Spoilers:** "Shades of Grey"

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** None

**Category:** Angst, episode tag

**Originally Published:** 3.30.05

**Word Count:** 254

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Original Author's Note:** This was written in about 10 minutes, and it's un-beta'ed, so it probably doesn't make much sense, but...what the heck. It's from Jack's POV during "Shades of Grey".

* * *

What scares him isn't so much that he's pulling this off. It's that he's pulling it off so effortlessly.

It isn't just that he finds it easy to pretend he's a heartless thief, although that is disturbing in itself. It's that his friends have been so quickly convinced by his act.

He knew, when he took the assignment, that they would be confused and probably hurt by his behavior. He knew that they would look at him differently than they had ever looked at him before. What he didn't expect was that they would really believe he was the villain he pretended to be.

"_I guess I never really knew you at all."_

How can they think they never knew him? They've fought by his side for three years. They've seen him hurt and scared and desperate and angry. They've seen him writhing on the floor at the feet of a false god. They've watched him die and they've watched him watch them die, and they still think they don't know him?

The fact that they can't see beyond his facade scares him, but it isn't what scares him most. What scares him most is that he thinks that they might be right, that maybe they really don't know him. Maybe they've never known him. Maybe he's the only person who really knows him.

He remembers reading that no man is an island, but no matter how hard he looks, all he sees is water on every side.

Maybe he doesn't even know himself.

**fin**


	34. the stuff of nightmares

**Title:** The Stuff of Nightmares

**Summary:** Episode tag for "Zero Hour", from Jack's point of view.

**Spoilers:** "Abyss", "New Order", "Zero Hour"

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Minor language, depictions of torture

**Category:** Angst, episode tag

**Originally Published:** 4.19.05

**Word Count:** 411

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

* * *

_Daniel raises broken, mutilated hands to cover his empty eye sockets. The smell of burnt flesh hangs heavy in the air. He breathes in small sobbing gasps and curls up to make himself as small as possible. Everything that made him Daniel has long since departed, leaving behind a broken, whimpering creature. We can never bring him home, not even if we rescue his body._

_Rivers and streams of blood run down Carter's body from the knives embedded in her chest. The blood pools at her feet, forming lakes of congealing red liquid. She tries to breathe and chokes, gagging until blood rushes from her mouth and she starts to asphyxiate. The gleaming metal web behind her collapses and she falls and falls and falls and dies without ever landing._

_Teal'c's skin is dissolved in a dozen places. He doesn't make a sound, but his hands flutter in small useless agonized motions as his chest liquefies under an onslaught of acid. The smoke of his own flesh burning stings his eyes and tears stream down his face. This time, it's not so absurd to think he might actually be crying._

_They are separated from each other and put through a living hell over and over until they forget everything but the pain._

_By then it's too late, so I watch from a distance and know that the part of me that matters died with them._

* * *

Someone is tapping my back.

I roll over, my hands coming up to cover my eyes. I feel like I haven't slept in weeks.

Gilmor is standing over me, looking vaguely apologetic. "Sorry to wake you, sir."

"Feels like it's been ten minutes," I mumble, surprised the words come out coherently. I try desperately to shake the horrific images from my mind. Hopefully Gilmor thinks I'm just tired, nothing else.

"It has," he replies. "There's an incoming wormhole. Ba'al wants to talk."

Ba'al...

_Daniel with no eyes. Carter choking on her own blood. Teal'c dissolving, one drop at a time._

No, Jack, don't go there. For God's sake don't go there.

I drag myself to my feet and wearily follow Gilmor from the room.

I hate Ba'al, I hate this job, and right now I even hate myself a little, for taking command of the SGC, for being here safe and alive while my team is out there going through God knows what.

I should have been with them. God, I should have been with them.

**fin**


	35. cemetery after

**Title:** Cemetery After

**Summary:** Does she know or care that he still remembers her birthday?

**Spoilers:** None

**Pairings:** It's a secret:)

**Warnings:** None

**Category:** General

**Originally Published:** 4.22.05

**Word Count:** 809

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Author's Note:** This is the most weird and random story I've ever written. I have no idea what I was thinking.

* * *

In the movies, graveyards are perpetually dim. In the movies, gray rain always falls to dampen the gravestones and water the roses planted in tribute to the departed.

This isn't the movies. The sunlight is so bright it hurts his eyes. He can't see a cloud in the sky. Shrugging his dismissal of movie clichés, he puts on sunglasses and slams the door of his truck.

The grass is freshly mown and very green under his feet. All the trees are pruned and look healthy. He isn't sure why that reassures him so much. It isn't as if she's around to see it.

He leans back on his heels in front of the grave. "Hey, it's me," he says quietly. "I know I haven't been around for a while. Things have been really busy."

Is she somewhere watching him? Does she know or care that he still remembers her birthday?

He kisses his fingers and touches the plastic-covered photograph embedded in her gravestone. Even after fifteen months, it still hurts to see her smiling face, to know he'll never hear her laugh again.

She was so cocky when he first met her—bright-eyed and confident and maybe even arrogant. Time and experience eventually mellowed her, transforming her into the woman he loved. There had been sadness in her eyes sometimes because she had seen things no one should ever have to see, but laughter had always come easily to her nonetheless.

He thinks back over the time they had together and decides that he wouldn't change a thing, not even to escape the pain.

She was so young when she died—not even forty. They both knew the risks involved with their job, but somehow they just never thought it would happen to one of them.

"The kids miss you," he says softly. "April isn't as scared of the dark any more, but Aidan still can't bear to sleep alone. He always was our sensitive one."

He pauses. The wind whispers through the trees. He doesn't bother to wonder whether it's her.

"Kate took the toaster apart again this week. She reminds me of you. Smart, feisty, beautiful..." He pauses a moment to regain his composure, then continues, "Melyssa wrote you a letter. She said she's going to put it in a bottle and throw it in the water and God will give it to you."

They never intended to have four children. Their daughters, Kate and Melyssa, were seven and three when the twins, April and Aidan, came along. The twins were a surprise, to say the least.

He can't hold back a faint grin as he shares the next tidbit. "Daniel Jackson died again this week. By my count, that makes twelve. Walter thinks it's eleven, but he's not counting the time everybody thought Daniel was dead, and he wasn't. Anyway, it took him three days to come back this time. The whole base was betting on when he'd return. O'Brien won."

He takes a deep breath and runs his fingers along her picture again. "Okay, okay, I'll stop beating around the bush. The truth is, I've met somebody, and I—I had to come and..."

Another pause. How do you tell your dead wife you're thinking of getting married again?

"Her name is Shannon. She's a schoolteacher. It's a cliché, but I really do think you'd like her. She's great with the kids. They've all taken to her, even Melyssa."

He pulls up a few blades of grass. "The twins are only three, Jen. They need a mom. And as much as I'll always love you, I need somebody too. Shannon's...she's really great."

He waits for a while, maybe hoping for something, some voice or vision telling him it's all right.

After a while he gets up to leave. "I'll be back," he says. "That's a promise. I love you, Jen."

It has clouded up. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and the first few drops of rain fall on Lt. Colonel Graham Simmons just as he reaches his truck.

**fin**

**A/N:** In case you didn't figure it out, the pairing is Graham Simmons/Jennifer Hailey. The two were never actually in an episde together; Simmons was in "Message in a Bottle", "The Fifth Race", "A Matter of Time", "Serpent's Song" and "Redemption", and Hailey was in "Prodigy" and "Proving Ground".


	36. walking away

**Title:** Walking Away

**Summary:** He leaves them with a smile.

**Spoilers:** Early season 9

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** None

**Category:** Angst

**Originally Published:** 6.27.05

**Word Count:** 200

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Original Author's Note:** This is 200 words even; I had to do some trimming to get it there!

* * *

**past**

Jack saved the world, grinned, shrugged, went out and did it again because that was his job.

He followed his intuition and was right. He followed his intuition and was wrong and did his best to fix things.

He died and lived and wisecracked and fought evil. He saved children and killed gods and made decisions about life and death and the fate of everything.

When they woke up in the infirmary he was always there, quiet but smiling that smile that said _you're okay and I'm glad._ No words could have made them feel as valued as that smile did.

He showed the Asgard the promise of the human race because they saw the heart behind the sarcasm—passion and pain and potential bottled up in one stunningly frail being.

**present**

Sunlight blazes off Jack's silver hair. His hand when Daniel shakes it is warm and damp. He smiles a small sideways smile and the handshake turns into a hug.

He hugs Sam and Teal'c and walks toward his truck and doesn't look back. Sam thinks she sees his shoulders shake slightly as he opens the door but he leaves them with a smile...just like always.

**fin**


	37. second chances

**Title:** Second Chances

**Summary:** She's been granted a second chance at love, and she isn't going to waste it.

**Spoilers:** "Meridian", "Fallen"

**Pairings:** Daniel/Janet

**Warnings:** None

**Category:** Angst/Romance

**Originally Published:** 6.27.05

**Word Count:** 430

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Original Author's Note:** I know, I know, in the episode Janet wasn't in the 'gate room when Daniel returned. Here, she is. This is a sequel of sorts to **Aftermath** (anthology chapter 27).

* * *

Janet know something is happening as soon as she steps out of the OR, bone-weary, peeling off bloody latex gloves. When Sergeant Connie Smith was brought through the gate, she had an arrow embedded in her chest, a collapsed lung, and no heartbeat. Six hours later, thanks to Janet, the young dark-haired member of SG-13 has a fighting chance.

The SGC is abuzz. Its normally quiet halls echo with excited conversation, and people are streaming past in the direction of the gate room. Janet is too exhausted to pay much attention...until she hears a snippet of conversation between two SFs.

"Dr. Jackson...SG-1 found him...doesn't know who he is..."

Janet stops, her heart pounding slowly and loudly, her mouth suddenly dry. She tells herself that she misheard, that her mind is playing tricks on her, that all the months of wishing and hoping are finally starting to drive her insane.

But it's too late to squash the sudden desperate hope, because her feet are already moving toward the gate room. Pretty soon she's running, soaring past small groups of personnel who watch her in consternation. Hope forms a painful knot in her throat. She knows she's probably setting herself up for a devastating fall, but she doesn't really care any more.

Janet reaches the gate room just before the Stargate activates. She stands behind the SFs, surrounded by people but too frightened to ask them who's coming through with SG-1. She's scared that they might not say "Daniel Jackson".

The wormhole ripples. Colonel O'Neill comes through...Sam...Teal'c...Jonas. She stares at the undulating blue surface and tastes disappointment, bitter on her tongue. He's not coming. He's never coming home.

One more ripple. One last person emerges.

Janet Fraiser stands, her hands hanging limply by her sides, as Daniel Jackson walks slowly down the ramp. He looks distant, confused. His eyes sweep across the room, linger briefly on her, move away.

She's a professional so she tries hard to force back the tears that sting her eyes. The man she loved but never told, the man she watched die in agony, is standing in front of her whole and alive, and he doesn't remember her.

It doesn't matter. He has come home. By some strange trick of fate, she's been granted a second chance at love, and she isn't going to waste it. He will remember her. She knows he will, and she doesn't care how long it takes.

With tears sparkling in her eyes, she steps forward and stretches her hand out toward him. "Hi, Daniel. I'm Janet." Her voice breaks. "Welcome home."

**fin**


	38. after the war

**Title:** After the War

**Summary:** After the war's end, we slowly rebuilt our world.

**Spoilers:** "The Other Side"

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** None

**Category:** General

**Originally Published:** 8.23.05

**Word Count:** 265

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Original Author's Note:** This is a 265-word 'drabble' for the challenge word 'promise'. It assumes that the 'breeders' from "The Other Side" eventually dug up their Stargate and met SG-1.

* * *

After the war's end, we slowly rebuilt our world. Our children learned to play without watching the skies for Eurondan bombs. Now I often see O'Neill out with them, in meadows or alleys, teaching silly games, laughing, teasing. He helps the small ones understand that peace means no more fear of sudden death from above.

We were reluctant to trust him at first. Just before the end of the war, our reconnaissance crafts intercepted friendly communications between Euronda and the First World. It was then that we feared our battle was ending. The weariness of years of loss left us hardly able to carry on the fight. If the Eurondans allied with the powerful Ones of old, how could we hope to survive?

Nearly a year after the unexplained collapse of the Eurondan bunker, we unearthed our Stargate. Shortly afterward he came through, his team following behind him. They promised us food and medical supplies.

I hesitated, unwilling to trust, remembering the captured snippets of radio conversation.

Then a tiny girl, not yet old enough to understand caution, broke free from the gathered crowd and toddled toward this stranger, smiling, brown-skinned arms outstretched.

O'Neill knelt and lifted her into his arms, speaking soft words of encouragement and approval of her wobbly steps. With her arms around his neck, he looked at me across the little girl's curly black hair.

"We will make sure your children are safe and healthy," he stated quietly.

Our eyes met and locked, and I saw the depth of honesty in this man.

"I promise," he said, and I believed him.

**fin**


	39. i'll wait for you forever

**Title:** I'll Wait For You Forever

**Summary:** He said he'd wait. She said she'd return. He said goodbye.

**Spoilers:** "Fire and Water"

**Pairings:** Nem/Omoroca

**Warnings:** None

**Category:** Angst, pre-series

**Originally Published:** 11.27.05

**Word Count:** 127

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

* * *

She said she had to go. She said it was something she had to do. She wanted to help, wanted to save them, wanted to take care of them because in some strange way she saw them as children. They _were_ children, she said, innocent and simple and abused.

He didn't want her to go. He begged her not to. He said it was too dangerous, said she'd get herself killed, said they weren't worth it. But in the end she smiled in that way she had, and he let her go. He loved her because of her heart and he couldn't, wouldn't, make her stop following it.

He said he'd wait. She said she'd return. They said goodbye.

He waited forever, but she never came back.

**fin**


	40. judas

**Title:** Judas

**Summary:** She can feel the cold from across the room.

**Spoilers:** None

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Blood, implied torture, character death

**Category:** Angst

**Originally Published:** 1.3.06

**Word Count:** 760

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

* * *

She can feel the cold from across the room. Snow is cold and ice is even colder but nothing's quite as cold as this.

Something drips off her arm, landing with a soft _plink_. She looks down, watching another drop of colorless liquid meander across her arm before making the sudden plunge off her elbow.

It's strange to be sweating when she's so very cold. The cell used to be hot. She remembers breathing air so torrid it tasted like steam. She remembers praying for a drink of water.

That was forever ago. Now, she's always cold.

She hasn't looked at him in hours; she doesn't need to. She clearly remembers what she saw the last time she looked—anger and pain and betrayal and...oh God, _compassion_. It's the compassion that breaks her heart. She wants him to scream at her, hurt her, beat her to a lifeless pulp.

She wants him to hate her. She wants him to forgive her. She wants him to go back and change what can never be changed.

This must be how Judas felt when he flung the cold, cold silver and screamed at the sky.

"I'm sorry," she says. "Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry."

She hasn't been coherent for a while. It's a skill that eludes her fractured mind. Mostly she just babbles, endless bits and pieces of emotions and half-framed thoughts. Talking makes her feel better until she remembers that she's insane. Then she just feels sad.

She chances a look at him. He's sitting with his back to her, knees drawn up to his chest, every muscle impossibly still. His silence is very cold. She can feel it from across the room.

"I'm sorry sorry sorry," she says. "I betrayed and I told where you were hiding and I killed you and I'm sorry."

He never moves. Blood pools on the floor beneath him, congealing in syrupy pools. The sickly sweet smell fills the air. He's dead and his skin is so cold she can feel it from across the room.

A long time ago, he took her shoulders and shook her and said "It's not your fault! Janet, snap out of it!" He looked at her with brown compassionate eyes. "We'll get out of here. I promise."

That was forever ago, before they came in and hurt him so much and hurt him until he bled and bled and his breath rattled in his lungs.

He turned his back to her and curled up so she wouldn't have to see him die. She didn't deserve the final act of mercy. She deserved to see him die. She deserved to die in his place.

She betrayed him.

Not just him...she betrayed them all, but he was the only one she had to watch die.

_Judas,_ a voice whispers in her mind. _Judas._

"Go away," she says. "Go...away!"

Someone touches her arm. Gentle voices call her name and hands gently lift her to a standing position. Her feet are slick with his blood. She's standing in a pool of it.

She tries to pull free. "No!" She says. "Nononononono! Go away!"

"Janet, please. You have to come with us. We're going to get you out of here."

"_No!_"

"It's okay. We're your friends."

"I won't!" She says brokenly, even as they half-carry, half-drag her from the cell. "I won't!"

She looks back at him one last time. He's very still and his clothes are soaked with blood. She knows he isn't really there. It doesn't matter.

The guards took him away a long time ago, but she still sees him there. She's pretty sure she always will.

The people who claim to be her friends take her away. They look like Daniel and Sam and Teal'c, but she knows they can't be, because Daniel and Sam and Teal'c are dead. She killed them, just like she killed him.

They pull her through musty hallways and out into open sunlight, but she's still back in the cell. She'll never really leave.

Her captors made her betray him, but no one will ever make her leave him.

"I'm sorry," she says as the rings descend to take them to safety. "I killed him and I'm sorry."

Hours later, they put her in a gray room and wrap blankets around her and say meaningless things in soothing voices. They don't understand why she keeps staring at the empty corner.

He sits with his back to her, knees drawn up to his chest, every muscle impossibly still.

She can feel the cold from across the galaxy.

**fin**


	41. ice

**Title:** Ice

**Summary:** He says that life goes on, and smiles like he doesn't know he killed her.

**Spoilers:** None

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Character death

**Category:** Angst/Tragedy

**Originally Published:** 5.25.06

**Word Count:** 681

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Original Author's Note:** I've written a deathfic about someone other than Jack! Aren't you proud of me?

* * *

It takes them weeks to find her body.

He keeps telling himself that it will be good for him to find her, that it will bring closure, an end to the searching, to the agonizing what ifs that haunt not only his waking, but sleeping moments as well.

He's wrong. So horribly, stupidly, hopelessly wrong. Finding her is approximately as therapeutic as bathing in acid. It hurts like hell. On the way back through the gate his mask-like facade slips, just once, just for a second. It scares him because his mask never slips, not ever.

If the other personnel in the gate room hear the single smothered sob, they don't say a word.

* * *

Losing a team member is like dying, only worse. He knows this because he's died before. He is never sure just how many times, but it might as well have been a hundred thousand. He died and kept dying forever and it was never as bad as this.

Losing a team member is failure. It was his job to keep her alive and now she's dead and he can't afford to show how much it hurts. He has to pretend that he's fine because he's still the leader, and his team—the remaining members, the ones he didn't let die—still look to him for comfort.

So he says empty, meaningless things about how life goes on, and he smiles like he doesn't know he killed her.

* * *

She was frozen solid under a clear sheet of ice. Even after seven weeks she still looked like she could have died yesterday. Her blue eyes were staring blankly up through the ice, and her left hand was reaching up slightly as if she was begging for help. It was far too late to help her, days too late, weeks too late. Despite appearances, she'd been dead a long time.

They cut through the ice and got her out. Her skin was perfect porcelain, like a doll's. He almost wanted to ask them to leave her there, because as long as she was under the ice she would stay beautiful forever. He bit his lip and helped them load her onto the MALP and didn't say a word.

Later, before she had completely thawed out, he slipped away and went down to the morgue. It was empty and silent and freezing cold.

"I'm sorry," he said to the stillness. "I'm sorry, Carter...Sam. I'm so sorry."

She stared blankly up at the ceiling. He leaned over to look into her empty, lifeless eyes. A bit of ice in her eyelashes melted, and a rivulet of water trickled down her frozen cheek. For an instant he could have sworn she was crying.

* * *

She died of hypothermia. It probably took less than 24 hours. She died of hypothermia, and the ever-advancing ice swallowed her body probably within hours.

It was his decision, his call. He called off the search. He ordered the teams back to the gate. They tell him now that it was the best decision, that they all would have died had he tried to continue on. The storm was just too big. The storm caused it all.

Carter would have been able to find the gate if not for the storm. They would have been able to find Carter if not for the storm. God only knew how close they came to her during their seven-hour search.

Within shouting distance, had it not been for the howling winds that accompanied the blizzard.

Within visual range, had it not been for the shrieking wall of falling snow.

In the end, he called off the search and told them all to go home. He'll never forget the half-formed protest that died on Daniel's bluish lips, the sadness in Teal'c's eyes. A piece of his heart died in that moment because he knew he had killed her.

There was nothing else he could have done. No other decision he could have made. That doesn't make it hurt any less.

She's dead because he left her behind. He'll never forgive himself for that.

**fin**


	42. soulless

**Title:** Soulless

**Summary:** Maybe he wants to slip away this time.

**Spoilers:** None

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** None, really

**Category:** Angst

**Originally Published:** 8.3.04

**Word Count:** 724

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

* * *

Hands touched his face.

Voices floated in from the distance, brushing by him, leaving no comprehension in their wake. Meaningless sounds, entreating him to return to them.

"Sir..."

"...hang on..."

"...O'Neill..."

"...be all right..."

His hold on reality was fragile, a spider web hanging in the smothering darkness. Images flashed in front of his eyes, fragments of a life, at times, not so well lived.

Faces...

Emotions...

* * *

_His feet pounded the floor, each impact jarring his brain and clacking his teeth together. Sara was running behind him, her breath coming in harsh gasps._

_The face was still, pale, and perfect, framed by tousled brown hair. The child could have been asleep if not for the blood pooling around his body, soaking through his clothes, drowning his father's soul in creeping streams of rich red liquid._

_Jack fell to his knees, mindless of the blood drenching his jeans. He heard Sara screaming incoherently behind him, fumbling for the phone to make a call. A call they both knew would never bring back the vivacious child lying on the floor._

_Charlie was still warm._

_His body was limp and warm and painted red. The gun lay where he had dropped it, stained by the blood it had shed. Charlie's fingers were curled slightly, as if he was still holding the instrument of his death._

_He was still. God, he was so still. Even in sleep, Charlie had been a child perpetually in motion—his fingers twitching, his mouth moving, his eyelids shifting. Now he was so still._

_No. No. No. God, please!_

* * *

"Colonel, come on..."

Shouts. Pleas, far off, drawing him back toward the living. He was floating, disembodied, hanging still in silent space.

More shouting, the voices becoming almost angry. There was a charging whine, a _whump;_ the body on the table spasmed with electricity. He didn't care. He didn't have the energy to care.

He saw a silent movie, frames blurring and changing in front of his eyes until nothing was real.

* * *

"_Sara?"_

_His voice returned to him, echoing empty in a silent room. The letter on the table was positioned carefully. In his mind's eye he could see Sara's slender hands arranging and rearranging it until it was placed just so, its edges lined up with the seams on the table._

_Her handwriting was neat, the words clear, black ink on white unlined paper. He couldn't say he was surprised. Maybe he'd known all along that this would happen. That, finally, it would become too much even for her._

_He didn't blame her. Oh, no. He knew just where to place the blame. Some part of him would always love Sara, but he knew she had only done what she had to do to survive._

_Eventually, he would have pulled her down with him. He would have killed her, as he inevitably killed everyone naïve enough to love him._

_He didn't blame her. But standing alone in the musty room holding a goodbye from the woman he had nearly destroyed, he knew that he had lost another part of his soul. Maybe the last part of his soul._

_He was empty._

* * *

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Beeepbeepbeepbeep beeeeeeeeep...

"We're losing him again. Dammit, Colonel, you have to fight!"

If he could speak, maybe he would tell them he was tired of fighting. Tired of holding on. Tired of being soulless.

Maybe he wanted to slip away this time.

"Charging!"

_Whump._

"Again!"

_Whump._

"Jack! Jack, _please!" _Brown eyes, pretty face framed by auburn hair. Tears streaked down her cheeks, wrecking her makeup. So much for doctors not getting emotionally involved with their patients.

He hadn't meant to make her cry.

He spiraled downward, through the shattered fragments of his mind, and back to the lump of flesh that spasmed one more time.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Jack?"

"O'Neill?"

"Colonel?"

Three voices. Different, but each sharing the same mix of emotions: Concern. Weariness. Relief.

Their faces appeared above him, blurry, but not blurry enough to conceal their tired but joyful smiles when they saw his eyes open.

He forced the edges of his mouth to rise slightly, thinking of the words he would never tell them.

That he had come back because of them.

Because, for some reason he would never comprehend, they cared.

Because he had no right to shatter their world.

Because...because they still had souls.

**fin**


	43. survival

**Title:** Survival

**Summary:** How much has Jack O'Neill survived during the years I've known him?

**Spoilers:** "Solitudes", "Brief Candle", "Message in a Bottle", "Into the Fire", "New Ground", "Fallen"

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Violence, mild language

**Category:** Angst, drama, h/c

**Originally Published:** 3.11.05

**Word Count:** 1,226

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**Author's Note:** Sequel to "Soulless" (anthology chapter 42) but it does work as a stand-alone.

* * *

How much has Jack O'Neill survived during the years I've known him? I don't remember, really, beyond flashes and scattered images that would form a picture of the last nine years if I could get them all to fit together.

_**He was bundled in a coat and wrapped in blankets, his face like ice to the touch, blood trailing down his chin from the corner of his mouth. Sam stirred, half-opening her eyes, but Jack was so still and I touched his cold skin and thought he was dead, of hypothermia or internal bleeding or both.**_

_**He was huddled on the cold stone stairs, wrinkles seaming his face like an ancient road map, his hair long and white and scraggly. His hands shook uncontrollably and I thought how wrong it was, how absurd, to see a man in the prime of his life die of old age right in front of me.**_

_**He was pinned to the concrete wall, trails of sweat glistening down his blue-tinged face like salty tears. He was mostly silent; maybe he lacked the energy to rail against the metal spike buried in his shoulder or the virus slowly taking over his body. By the time we came up with one last farfetched plan to try to save him, he could no longer speak his approval, so he gave it in silence, with a feather light touch that likely drained every remaining ounce of strength from his body.**_

Ever since I recovered from the amnesia, my memory works differently than it did before, and I don't like it. Casual mentions of missions and events bring back conversations, images, emotions, sensations, but sometimes it's excruciatingly hard to put them in order, make them fit together. The memories are all there; they just don't come easily to the surface.

Sometimes at night when I'm trying to sleep, the images and echoes and emotions flood my brain, like random pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, perfectly logical within context but meaningless when mixed and matched with other images and echoes and emotions from thirty-four years of life.

It's then that I think maybe this is all a series of colorful photographs, images I'm looking at out of order, dropped from an album and put back all out of place.

"_**Oh God," he said finally, his horror getting the best of him as the symbiote slithered across the bare skin of his chest. "No." His voice was barely above a whisper, and I thought, **_**This is it—they've finally found a way to destroy him**_**. He screamed when it tore through his skin, just once, just for a second, and then he fell silent and his face twitched and his mouth opened and closed as he fought what could only be a losing battle against the monster in his head.**_

"Jack." I'm holding his hand. It's ice cold. "Jack, hang on...please hang on."

_Please, God, don't let him die._

The monitor shrills loudly. Oh, God, they're losing him. Janet shoves me aside and shouts for a crash cart. She's crying—Janet is _crying._ I never thought I'd see her cry.

"Clear!"

_Whump._

_Beeeeeeeeeeep._

The line on the monitor stays flat. God, please no. Please, not again—

_**The dart bounced off Apophis's shield. There was an instant in which startled realization appeared in Jack's eyes, but not even his legendary instincts could save him. He ran for the rocks, making a desperate leap as the blast struck him in the back. He collapsed just short of his goal, his body twitching a little as he fought a losing battle against death. He lay still, so still, his back smoking. I looked at him and knew he was dead, and I couldn't breathe, couldn't think.**_

_**Jack wasn't supposed to die. Not Jack.**_

Don't do this to us, Jack.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

"That's right, Colonel, that's right," Janet says, handing the paddles to a nurse. "We've got a single bullet to the upper chest, no exit wound—"

_Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep._

"We're losing him again. Damn it, Colonel, you have to fight!" Janet sounds angry now, fierce and scared. She takes the paddles back; there's a high whining sound as they charge, and then Jack's body spasms again.

"Charging!"

_Whump._

"Again!"

_Whump._

"Jack! Jack, _please!"_

I've never heard Janet call him 'Jack' before, but in this breathless moment as he lies suspended between life and death, he's not her superior officer any more—he's just her friend.

He's always been my friend, and I can't lose him. Not like this.

Not like this.

_**There was a low sizzling sound as the electrical current poured into my best friend's unconscious body. Jack spasmed weakly, his subconscious mind trying and failing to propel him forward, away from the metal bars of the cage.**_

"_**No, there is not another one of my team out there! Turn it off!"**_

**Oh God,**_** I thought, **_**Oh God, he's going to die. I can't talk. I can't **_**not**_** talk. He's going to die, and it'll be my fault.**

"_**Turn it off! You'll kill him!"**_

_**Rigar's steely blue eyes met mine. "No. You will kill him."**_

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

This time no one relaxes. Janet stands board stiff, holding the paddles suspended just above Jack's chest, waiting for him to crash again. Our world narrows down to the annoying sound of that beeping monitor. With everything we have, we all will Jack's heart to keep beating.

Janet finally sets aside the paddles, and I exhale a breath I think I've been holding for ten minutes. I catch only one more brief glimpse of Jack as he is wheeled away to the operating room—his face is ashen, his lips blue.

How much has Jack O'Neill survived while I've known him?

I might never remember, but today all that matters is that he survives this latest crisis.

Janet looks exhausted. She walks out, peeling off bloody latex gloves, and I wish I could take her in my arms and hold her, as much for my comfort as for hers.

"Colonel O'Neill is still critical, but we have him stabilized. He lost a tremendous amount of blood. If it had taken you five minutes longer to get him back through the gate..." She lets her voice trail off and presses her fingers against her temples. Her head is probably hurting as much as mine is.

"Can we see him?" Sam asks tremulously.

Janet looks at each of us in turn. When she meets my eyes, she finally gives in. "All right, but only for a moment. You know it's too early to expect any response from him."

We file in silently, almost reverently, and take up our customary positions at his bed.

"Jack," I say softly, not really intending to ignore Janet, but having to say _something._

"Sir?" Sam takes his left hand and leans toward him until her face is close to his.

"O'Neill?" Teal'c's voice is surprisingly gentle.

Eyelashes flicker, and suddenly we're being regarded by half-opened brown eyes. Janet's mouth falls open, and she rushes to check his vital signs while Teal'c, Sam and I burst into dopey smiles of relief.

One corner of Jack's mouth turns up slightly, and then his eyes drift back closed as his body relaxes into a healing sleep.

Jack O'Neill has survived again—another item added to a list already far too long.

**fin**


	44. black hole

**Title:** Black Hole

**Summary:** For her he could almost pretend that there isn't a hole in the world.

**Spoilers:** None

**Pairings: **Unspecified

**Warnings:** Implied (but unspecified) character death

**Category:** Angst, drabble

**Published:** 8.2.2007 (today)

**Word Count:** 100

* * *

Carter almost smiles real and looks at him with eyes that are blue, but not the way they are supposed to be. She wants everything to be right again, and for her he could almost—almost—pretend that there isn't a hole in the world.

But she knows as well as he does that it isn't real, not any of it, because there is empty space hovering where a fourth person should be. No, more than empty space—there is a black hole fragmenting their world, inexorably sucking them in.

Carter almost smiles real, and her face oozes plastic happiness.

**fin**


	45. finality

**Title:** Finality

**Summary:** Things might have been different if his team was alive.

**Spoilers:** "Meridian", "Paradise Lost", "Death Knell", "Avatar"

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Character death

**Category:** Deathfic, AU

**Published:** 9.14.07 (today)

**Word Count:** 155

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

----

In 2001 they lose Daniel. He dies saving a country called Kelowna.

The others don't think the Kelownans were worth it.

In 2002 they lose Jack. He's trapped off-world with Harry Maybourne, and by the time they find him, it's too late. He's lying next to the tripwire that killed him. There's a piece of wood through his heart.

They never find Maybourne.

In 2003 they lose Sam. She's trapped at the devastated Alpha Site with a super soldier. She evades it for days before dropping from exhaustion. By the time they find her body, they have to use the dog tags to make sure it's her.

They blow the super soldier to hell.

In 2004 they lose Teal'c. A training game that seems harmless at first eventually turns deadly and he dies trapped inside his own mind.

They can't help but wonder whether things might have been different if his team was still alive.

**-fin-**


	46. mistake

**Title:** Mistake

**Summary:** One mistake could change everything.

**Spoilers:** None really

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Character death

**Category:** Angst, AU (very AU)

**Originally Published:** Sometime in 2004, I think

**Word Count:** 320

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

----

The silver-haired man is surrounded by children. Giggling, they pull him toward a grassy field, entreating him to join in their game. He feigns reluctance, but after a moment a smile suddenly transforms him from cold-faced warrior to universal father. His acquiescence is met by excited cheers.

It is in this moment, when children hold both his hands, when his attention is focused entirely on them, when his guard is down, that he is most vulnerable. This is when I strike.

The impact knocks him backward, smoke billowing from his chest. His eyes meet mine, and for an instant, I know he sees me and realizes his mistake. Then he falls.

Children scream and wail as chaos overtakes the once peaceful scene.

By the time anyone thinks to look toward the ridge, I will be gone, traveling to report to my god that his greatest enemy has been eliminated.

----

It has been six months since I executed the Tau'ri, and I now know I did so in the service of a false god.

Perhaps that killing should blur together with the thousands of atrocities I committed as First Prime, but it does not. Every time I kelnoreem, I see the eyes of a great warrior who died because he allowed himself to care.

I sensed a strong soul, a noble soul, in that dying Tau'ri. Under other circumstances we might have fought many battles together, might even have become brothers.

Bra'tac and I stand alone in our opposition of the false gods, and I fear Bra'tac will not survive long. Many times as I struggle to hide myself and my ailing mentor from the enemy, I wish that the Tau'ri was fighting with me.

I believe our souls were destined to stand together, to combat darkness side by side. By obeying my false god that one last time, I condemned us all to defeat.

I am sorry, Tau'ri O'Neill.

**-finis-**


	47. for such a time as this

**Title:** for such a time as this

**Summary:** The battle has always been personal, but never more than now.

**Spoilers:** None, really

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Angst, a bit of blood, possible character death (that's for you to decide)

**Category:** Angst, h/c, Janet & Jack friendship

**Word Count:** 450

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

----

O'Neill breathes in slow, rattling gasps. She's given up trying to comfort him; his eyes dart wildly around the room, and she's pretty sure he doesn't see her anymore, nor hear her futile comforting words.

"Help is on the way, sir. It's okay. We're going to have you out of here in no time."

She's never been good at lying.

The floor is cold so she huddles close to him, trying not to shake. His fever dropped hours ago and now he's cold, blue with cold, so very icy cold. She almost preferred the fever. She thinks maybe his cold skin means that his body isn't fighting any more.

She is going to fight tooth and toenail for him because that's what she does. Death hovers like a specter and she musters every bit of resolve left in her small frame and prepares to do battle. That's what her life is about—beating the odds, bringing people back. She's going to fight for him.

When she was seven years old they took her to visit her cancer-stricken grandmother. Young as she was, Janet could smell the stench of death, could feel its sickly breath on her neck as it hovered over its prey. She swore then that she would spend her life fighting it.

She started with neighborhood kittens, little scrawny things, eyes glued half shut, fur matted. Her mother warned her not to touch them, so she wore gloves and long-sleeved shirts. She fed them and treated their sores with bits of medicine given her by the friendly local veterinarian. She gave worm treatments and sometimes even baths, and when the once-frightened and scruffy kittens were friendly and soft, she took them to the local shelter to be adopted out.

She learned a lot with the kittens, but that wasn't her goal. She wanted to help people. At thirteen she volunteered as a candy-striper at the local hospital; she graduated high school at seventeen and went straight to medical school.

Now she's here, on the cold cold floor, huddled in a pool of blood next to a dying man. From kittens, matted fur and sores so easily fixed, to this—shattered bones and fading breath and no way to save one of her best friends.

Or herself.

"Help is on the way, sir," she says. Her words are starting to slur. She doesn't think she's shaking any more, but she can't really tell because her arms and legs are so numb.

The battle has always been personal, but never more than now.

Everything, every step, every choice, has brought her to this moment.

"Hang on, sir," she says, and holds him, sharing her body heat...dying for him to live.

**-finis-**


	48. moonlight

**title:** moonlight

**disclaimer:** not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

**word count:** 100

----

He runs. The damp grass is cold under his bare feet and the darkness smells like rain or damp dirt or plowed fields, freshly planted.

He runs for a long time and never trips, never falls. It takes him awhile to realize he's crying.

The smallest moon is out tonight. Its light is dim, barely touching the deep shadows beyond the river. When he finally stops, he wonders how far he is from camp, whether he should bother going back.

In the end, he goes back. He always does. Despite everything, he still wants to survive.

Less every day, though.

**-fin-**


	49. mercy

**Title:** Mercy

**Summary:** Jack dies a million times and keeps dying forever.

**Spoilers:** "Abyss"

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Character death

**Category:** Angst, deathfic, AU

**Originally Published:** 12.31.2007 (today)

**Word Count:** 200

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

- - - -

Jack dies a million times and keeps dying forever. They bring him back from Ba'al's outpost, and he's breathing and has a heartbeat but he's still dying inside his head.

They try everything to make him come back. Nothing works, and in the end they have no choice but to lock him in a padded room. No one, not even his team, understands why he constantly watches the ceiling with terror in his eyes.

He doesn't speak for ages, and then one day, when he's been in the hospital for almost three years, he grabs Teal'c's arm.

"End this," he says in a voice rusty from disuse. "Please..."

Teal'c stares into Jack's brown eyes and realizes that, for just an instant, O'Neill is lucid and fully understands the absolute hopelessness of his situation.

"Go to sleep, O'Neill," Teal'c says gently. "You will feel better in the morning. I promise."

That night, Teal'c goes to Chulak for a visit and never comes back.

It takes the nurses some time to realize why O'Neill won't wake up. By the time they finally call for help, it's too late. The massive dose of morphine has done its work.

Jack dies...and stops dying forever.

**(end)**


	50. three minutes

**Title:** Three Minutes

**Summary:** She was three minutes too late.

**Spoilers:** None

**Pairings:** Could be Sam/Daniel if you wanted it to be, but I only intended friendship.

**Warnings:** Character death (as usual)

**Category:** Angst, deathfic

**Originally Published:** 12.31.2007 (today)

**Word Count:** 150

**Disclaimer:** Not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

- - - -

Daniel coughs. Blood trickles from his mouth. His breath wheezes through his throat.

"I'm sorry," Sam says. She doesn't know what else to say. He already knows it's her fault.

He tries to smile at her, but it comes off as a grimace that shows bloody teeth. She flinches at the sight, then feels terrible. It's not his fault that he's dying a slow, horrible death.

She knows exactly whose fault it is.

"Sam," he says, breathes really. His voice doesn't really work anymore. She thinks that might have something to do with the massive hands around his throat, squeezing, crushing...

She was too late. Three minutes too late.

"Sam." He tries to sit up, but doesn't have enough strength left. "Sam, don't..."

"It's okay, Daniel." She'll lie for him, say it's all right. She'll do anything for him.

She can't do anything for him, because she was too late.

**(end)**


	51. empyria

**title:** Empyria  
**summary:** There is no true darkness in this place.**  
spoilers:** none**  
warnings:** possible implied character death**  
published:** 4.24.2008 (today)**  
word count:** 175  
**disclaimer:** not mine; not getting paid; I'm just playing with them.

* * *

Empyria has three moons. As the sun begins to sink behind cloud-hazed distant mountains, twilight sets in. There is no true darkness in this place, only daylight and moonlight.

Each moon glows a subtly different color, and their combined light is not quite silver and not quite purple but somewhere in between. In the soft windswept silence I hold up my hand and marvel at the shimmering beauty of human skin. Empyria's moonlight seems to infuse each object with light, creating an illusion of inner luminescence. It's the most beautiful sight I've ever seen.

Off to my left there's a lake, its crystal waters stretching out of sight. Moonlight creates a sparkling path all the way to the horizon. Absurdly, I think that if I could just get up I could walk on water and light, and follow the path home.

Home is a billion miles away, and I can't walk. I can't even move.

In the sparkling twilight on a planet I've named Empyria, I glow in the moonlight and slowly bleed to death.

**(end)**


End file.
